


Painting the Town

by HeiszKetchup



Category: RWBY
Genre: Blind Date, F/F, Matchmaking, Meddling Friends, all the best stuff in this fic!, and handcuffs too but not for the reasons you think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:19:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 118,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeiszKetchup/pseuds/HeiszKetchup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In retrospect, any kind of date planned by their group of friends was destined to end in disaster. But, all things considered, the night really could have gone much worse. Sort-of-modern AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Touchy Subjects

The start of it all could be traced back to Pyrrha. The call for the night of disaster (and everything that followed it) had originated from the redhead, found in a conversation of good intentions and ill recipes. That conversation – the one that Yang would begrudgingly repeat to the others for years to come, as Nora sang of its success – had begun over a third round of beers, in a well-earned corner in the neighbourhood pub, an ambience of mutters and laughter intermingling with their words.

At the time, none of them could have ever foreseen what that conversation would lead up to, which was exactly why none of them had any qualms against having it.

“So, Yang, how long’s it been since you’ve actually gone on a _good_ date?”

Nora asked the question innocently enough, prompting a great deal of spluttering from Yang, a free shower for Jaune, and shocked expressions from the rest of them. Pyrrha had flat out stared at her friend, Ren smirking to Nora’s right, Ruby laughing to her left. Yang offered Jaune her napkin in lieu of an apology – he took it without comment – and rounded on her friend, lilac eyes narrowing in retaliation.

“I don’t know, Nora,” she snarled back in response, “how long’s it been since you’ve had sex with Ren?”

Pyrrha held back a red-faced, red-haired Nora, Ren beside them blushing just as furiously as his partner. Yang cackled loudly, before her laughter was cut off by the intrusion of another party.

“The answer to that question is _never_.”

Sun dropped into the seat beside Yang, sitting down with a thud and a grin, Neptune following him back to the table. He propped his arms up on the seat cushions, looking around at his friends with a wide, cheeky grin, before continuing his earlier statement.

“What are we talking about?

The gathered groaned in response, Nora making a noise of indignation and crossing her arms in mock fury. Ren reached out a supportive hand to her shoulder, which visibly calmed the freckled girl – Yang snorted at the sight, answering the inquisitive Sun.

“The lack of Nora’s sex life,” she explained cheerfully, reaching out to take a new glass of beer from Neptune, nodding her thanks as her hand enclosed around the frosty glass.

Sun burst into loud howls, drawing the attention of nearby patrons – he entertained them with a rude gesture – while Neptune rolled his eyes, taking a seat beside Jaune. Pyrrha frowned at Sun’s snorts and Yang’s crude comment, narrowing emerald eyes at the blonde before shooting her own comment into the battlefield of a conversation.

“I believe before that,” she began, drawing the attention of the unruly group back to her, “we were discussing a lack of Yang’s dating life.”

Neptune and Jaune both let out barks of laughter at that, earning themselves a lilac glare. Yang turned back to the smirking Pyrrha, taking note of the way the amused group now watched her, waiting for her reply. Never one to hold anything sacred, Yang thrust a finger in her sister’s direction, ignoring Ruby’s squawk over her eye’s near impalement.

“You want to talk about a bad dating life?” Yang proclaimed, all too eagerly throwing her sister under the bus in her place, “Ruby hasn’t gone on a date in over four years!”

Ruby’s face changed in colour to match her namesake, pushing away her sister’s arm in fury, finding little resistance as Yang and the rest laughed.

“That’s not true!”

“Of couuuurse it isn’t,” Yang crooned, making horribly exaggerated kissing faces to her sister, “that’s not at all why I found you with Crescent Rose last week, calling it ‘your precious!’”

The group broke into raucous laughter at that, giggles and howls mixing with the pub’s usual ambience. Ruby’s face screwed up in indignance, before she leaned forwards and smacked her palms flat onto the wooden table, glaring at her sister.

“Well, if you’re going to bring that up,” she retaliated, “then I guess I’ll just have to tell them about the time I walked into your room and caught you practicing ‘make-out techniques’ with your corgi pillow!”

It took a while for the laughter to fade after that, Yang and Ruby dealing with their sudden embarrassment through noogies and headlocks. When they’d finally quieted down, and people stopped staring at them in wonderment over what kind of joke had been told to evoke that kind of response, Neptune raised his pint of beer in the air.

“I guess what we can all take away from this,” he called, catching the eyes of his friends, “is that Yang and Ruby _both_ need to go on more dates!”

Before either girl could offer up a sassy retort, the rest of their group held up their own drinks, calling out ‘hear, hear!’ and taking a large swig to wash down the proclamation. Ruby groaned and Yang grumbled, slumping back in her seat and making a show of crossing her arms.

“You say that like it’s such an easy thing to find good dates these days,” she replied, pouting, “and don’t even fight me on this. None of you have been in the dating market for several years now!”

She punctuated the last bit of her statement with a pointed finger at several open mouths, the responses dying in the throats of those who couldn’t deny the facts. The half-sisters were the last two to find respective partners and settle down; Pyrrha and Jaune had been dating since high school, Ren and Nora had been together since childhood (though the nature of their relationship had changed later on), and Sun and Neptune had finally stopped yelling “no homo” at one another in university.

A brief silence settled at the table, each of them musing over Yang’s statement in different ways. Then Pyrrha broke the silence, and simultaneously shattered any remaining aspects of a “normal” dating life for either of the sisters.

“Well, maybe all you need,” she began, her voice optimistic, “is to be introduced to the right person!”

“Yeah!” Nora seconded loudly, “friends of friends!”

Pyrrha’s comment of “no, that’s not what I meant” was lost in the general sounds of agreement from the rest of the group, the gathered friends nodding at the suggestion, Yang and Ruby looking apprehensive. Sun then visibly startled with an idea – some might say he ‘lit up’ – and turned to Neptune, who by the powers of ‘bro homo’ appeared to have come to the same conclusion as his boyfriend.

“You’ve still got her?”

“Yeah. Same one for you?”

“Absolutely.”

“Dude!”

They then turned back to the group, both grinning like fools, and finding several confused faces staring back at them.

“I feel like I’ve been part of a drive-by dialogue,” Yang said, her head tilted in bewilderment, receiving an approving nod from her sister.

Sun laughed openly, his sideburns stretching along the sides of his face with the movement. Neptune smiled, raising a hand in placation.

“Don’t worry about it, Yang,” he began, but lost his train of thought from the disbelieving glare sent his way, “or… worry about it?”

“Don’t you think too hard about it!” Sun interjected, slinging an arm around Yang’s shoulders, blond to blonde, “after all, you’ve got no idea what we’re planning!”

“That’s exactly the _problem_ ,” Ruby replied, silver and lilac eyes narrowing alike at Sun’s statement. The monkey Faunus waved a flippant hand in response, leaning back and closing his eyes, signifying the end of his participation in the debate.

Neptune sighed, glancing to Nora.

“I’ll fill you in later,” he stated, prompting an enormous grin to erupt across freckled cheeks. The redhead whirled to face Yang, her smile turning almost vengeful as she spoke.

“Payback for the sex comment!” she cried, causing Pyrrha to roll her eyes, and Jaune and Ren to blush slightly.

Yang groaned in realization, Ruby sympathetically patting her shoulder, until the younger sister truly took note of the situation.

“Hey, wait a minute!” she yelped, staring at a startled Nora, “why I am being dragged into something that’s really Yang’s fault?”

Yang muttered something along the lines of ‘it’s really Pyrrha’s fault,’ but her commentary was drowned out by Nora’s sadistic reply.

“Collateral damage.”

Chuckles emanated from the group, before the silence returned, until Jaune broke it.

“Wait, I don’t get it. What’s going on?”

Pyrrha sighed sympathetically, ignoring Sun and Yang’s snickers as she placed a hand on her partner’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it,” she explained softly, “Yang’s just gotten herself and Ruby into trouble with dating again.”

Jaune blinked at this, still not really catching on, though the half-sisters’ splutters gave him some indication as to what they thought of the situation. He took hold of his glass, raising it up as he spoke.

“Well… here’s to a not-so-disastrous date night, then?”

Nora and Sun laughed heartily, the rest giggling and smiling in reply as they lifted their glasses up towards his for the second time in the hour. Yang and Ruby rolled their eyes, but followed suit a moment later, frosted glass meeting with clinks.

“Hear, hear!”


	2. Awkward Introductions

Yang promptly forgot the conversation the next day, Ruby pushing it to the back of her mind after slightly more contemplation than her sister. Neither thought too much of the suggestions given to them by well-meaning (and troublesome) friends, instead focusing on more demanding aspects of their life, such as jobs and school and how empty their fridges had become.

It was why neither sister suspected anything when they were invited the next week out drinking with the usual group (a fine example of terrible instincts). Drinking with the band of merry morons was a common occurrence, and while it didn’t usually happen in consecutive weeks, it wasn’t unheard of. For that reason, both Yang and Ruby made their ways downtown after work on that fateful Friday evening, neither sister realizing that they had, in fact, been given different rendezvous points. Ruby was to meet up with them at the pub from the previous night, while Yang was called to one a few streets over, a bar tucked in between a bookstore and a loan center.

They arrived to the separate locations at about the same time, at the stage of the evening where those drinking in the name of business deals have just left, and the rest of the people still in bars and clubs have resigned themselves to a night on the town. Ruby sauntered up towards the bar, about to pull open the door to the laughter and pub music within, when a shout of her name drew her attention.

Neptune waved her over, from his position beside a petite girl with white hair that reflected the colours of the neon sign nearby, an awful contrast to Neptune’s shock of blue hair. In curiosity and apprehension, Ruby made her way over to the pair, taking cautious note of the scheming smile Neptune kept trying to hide.

“What’s up, Neptune?” she asked, eyeing her friend and his companion.

“Not much,” the blue-haired boy replied, smiling in what he probably thought was a comforting manner, “but hey, listen, do you have any other plans for the evening?”

In retrospect, where hindsight is twenty-twenty, and Ruby had time to think before she spoke, she would have said something different. But this was the present, and she blurted out a reply before she really thought it through.

“No,” she answered honestly, “but what does that have to–”

A sudden feeling of cold metal around her wrist cut off her sentence halfway through, silver eyes widening as Neptune grabbed both her arm and one of the girl beside him, pulling them closer and snapping a pair of handcuffs onto them. Ruby stumbled, the white-haired catching her before she could fall, shooting her a look of slight contempt before letting go. Then she whirled to face Neptune, and let loose a torrent of wrath that had Ruby cringing.

“NEPTUNE VASILAS!” she cried, her shrill voice drawing attention of others nearby on the street, “What is the meaning of this??”

The man in question held up his hands in self-defence, taking a step backwards as the woman took an angry one forwards, dragging Ruby along behind her. Neptune grinned wide when they had more distance between them, his expression a mixture of success and slight fear.

“Welcome,” he said, ignoring the woman’s furious question, “to our fool-proof dating night!”

Ruby, who had been in a state of shock, felt her brain reboot at his words. She shook her head, glaring up at her friend.

“This was Sun’s idea, wasn’t it?”

Neptune nodded sheepishly at Ruby’s question, the white haired woman looking slightly confused – Ruby assumed she had no idea who Sun was.

“It was mostly his,” Neptune admitted, “but it was also a collaboration between Nora and Pyrrha, especially to make up for Yang’s comment.”

He continued, ignoring Ruby’s yelp over ‘collateral damage.’

“Long story short, you two needed to go on a good date for once, so we planned one for you! And this way, you can’t ditch halfway through!”

“How is that a good thing?” Ruby’s handcuff partner barked, narrowing bright blue eyes at the man, “uncuff us right now, Neptune! This isn’t funny!”

Neptune shook his head, standing strong against the glares sent his way (particularly the blue eyes that were trying to incur Thor’s lightning on him through willpower alone).

“No can do,” he replied, “you two are in this together, and there’s no backing out! _And_ you’re both always complaining about how there’s no good dates, so… we decided to fix that for you.”

“By setting us up with each other?”

Neptune nodded at Ruby’s incredulous question, grinning at the groans that returned in reply. He then addressed the redhead, jerking a thumb behind him.

“If it’s any consolation,” he continued, “your sister’s about to go through the same thing.”

As if on cue, a faint yell of “SUN” sounded in the air, still understandable from several streets over. The white haired woman looked startled and concerned, while Ruby sighed and shook her head. At least her partner seemed relatively bearable. Whoever Yang was paired with was in for a long ride.

“I assume you have a plan, then?” the woman beside her said, drawing Neptune and Ruby’s attention back to her, “something we need to do before you’ll give us our freedom back.”

While Ruby tried not to feel offended, Neptune grinned and nodded emphatically.

“Yup!” he responded with far too much enthusiasm for the situation, “we’ve got everything all planned out, so listen close.”

He leaned forwards – though still from a distance where neither girl could grab him and physically beat the key from his possession – holding up an envelope.

“Your first clue,” he continued, ignoring the repetitions of the last word, “is in here. You two will read it, and follow it to the next location and task, which you’ll have to complete – together – before you receive your next one. There are several tasks over the night, which are in different spots across the city, and people placed there waiting for you.”

Ruby’s date made a noise of displeasure, attempting to cross her arms, until she realized that such a feat was no longer possible. Neptune smirked at the attempt, before he continued on.

“Get all the tasks done, and you’ll eventually be given the key. But there’s a lot of things to do, and –“ he checked his watch “–your night begins now!”

He tossed the envelope to the pair, Ruby fumbling but managing to catch it. Neptune waved a hand in farewell, moving to leave.

“Good luck!” he called, devotedly ignoring the scathing glares being sent his way, “I’ll see you two later. Enjoy your date!”

And with that, he left them – a seething white-haired woman, and an astonished redhead, both still taking in the situation that had suddenly implemented itself upon them. They stood in silence for a moment, the background noise of the busy street and the nearby pub not even registering in their occupied minds. After a minute or two of individual contemplation, Ruby’s sudden date pulled slightly on the handcuffs, then realized her mistake, lifting her other hand to rub the crease between her brow.

“That idiot,” she muttered, to which Ruby giggled. The woman looked at her in surprise, clearly not having expected the reaction – Ruby cut her laughter short, trying (and failing) to pass it off as a clearing of her throat.

They stood in silence again, though the new atmosphere held an awkward sort of tension, neither really knowing how to break it. Neither girl noticed the nearby painfully obvious fake bush, which housed a group of giggling figures, drawing strange looks from other passerby. Several phones – wisely placed on silent – captured the awkward moment between the two women, eagerly waiting for the situation to progress.

“So…”

Ruby started the conversation, tapping her free hand’s fingers against her other arm. She looked up to find the other woman staring back at her, an odd sort of expression of resignation and indignation on her face.

“I guess we should probably start?”

The woman sighed in reply, nodding in defeat, still looking greatly peeved at the overall situation.

“It doesn’t look like we have much of a choice,” she responded, before she pointed to the envelope in their shared grasp, “what does the note say?”

“Oh! Uh…”

Ruby lifted their shared hands, wincing at the rattle of the chain, ripping the envelope’s edge and pulling out the enclosed paper. She read it aloud, voice trailing off as the statement was fully revealed.

“Your taste buds and tolerance will be put to the test, as you prove whose hot sauce handling skills are the best…”

A location and poorly drawn map was located a bit below the phrase, indicating a restaurant a few blocks over. Ruby belayed that information to her partner for the night, and when she looked up at the lack of reply, she found the woman standing with her eyes closed in a form of self-control. A moment passed before the woman replied, her voice filled with barely contained fury.

“Of all the stupid, juvenile…”

She let her statement trail off, not really needing to finish it for the message to come across. Opening cyan eyes, she glanced back to Ruby, who nervously watched her reaction. It was obvious that neither woman was comfortable with the situation – the white-haired woman just seemed furious with the whole endeavour, while Ruby’s social anxiety brimmed close to the surface at the thought of being stuck with the woman all night, particularly when she seemed to have a hair-trigger temper. Then again, she might not necessarily have one – all Ruby had seen from her so far was the reaction to a ridiculous proposal (and by proposal, she meant obligation).

In a hope to bring some optimism to the night, Ruby turned to face her partner, thrusting out a hand and giving her name.

“I’m Ruby,” she pronounced, before she heard the chains on her extended hand rattle in reminder.

The woman quirked an eyebrow in response, glancing down at her hand, which had been dragged along in Ruby’s gesture of thoughtfulness. Ruby froze, unsure what sort of reaction would come about – before the woman glanced back up at her, lowering her raised eyebrow and shaking Ruby’s proffered hand with her free one.

“Weiss,” she replied flatly.

Ruby grinned at the interaction – her expression was not returned, but it was a start to the mutual agreement they would need to survive the night. Several muffled noises of happiness sounded in the air, paired with rapid phrases for the perpetrators to be quiet – Weiss’s expression turned to one of distaste, Ruby biting her lips to keep her giggle down. Their friends weren’t exactly quiet, that was for sure.

Weiss sighed, taking the slightly crumpled paper from Ruby’s grasp, reading over for herself the information of their first task. Dropping her hand in resignation, she raised her other – their hands were still interlinked, both from the cuffs and the handshake (the pose was immediately captured by several cameras). Ruby squeaked in realization, letting go, though it did nothing to actually separate their proximity. The redhead raised her free arm to awkwardly rub her head, before Weiss looked around, figuring out where they needed to go.

She tossed her head in the direction down the street, white hair following the motion smoothly.

“We’d better get going,” she stated flatly, “or this night will only continue to get longer – and I, for one, would not enjoy that.”

Ruby suppressed the slight hurt that rose at the statement, choosing instead to nod and turn to go. The pair began to make their way down the sidewalk, the chain pulled taught between them, both Weiss and Ruby trying to keep as much distance between themselves as possible. They drew the attention of several people that passed them, understandable – and Ruby was sure it wouldn’t be the first time they would in the next couple of hours.

They were in for a long night.


	3. Shared Knowledge

Neptune, whether he knew it or not, had been right. Yang had found herself in the exact same situation as her sister – albeit, her handcuffs partner had black hair, not white, and didn’t seem to be quite as peeved with the position they were in. She seemed more amused with the whole scenario than anything else, though the same could not be said for the blonde she was now saddled with.

Yang, like her sister, had made her way over to the bar she was summoned to, a tiny location crammed in between a closed loan shop, and a bookstore – which, she noted curiously, was twenty-four hours, for reasons she couldn’t quite fathom. She’d made her way down the street towards the bar, realizing about halfway through her path that it was closed, lights off and door barred shut. A sign was posted to the door, and she could make out the words “health hazard” in bold text on it, small type lost in a blur. Underneath the sign, someone had scrawled in neon graffiti “STD Spawn Point,” which kind of gave away the game.

Either way, Yang wasn’t going anywhere near the place. Before she could text her friends in confusion, however, a warm hand clasped her shoulder – she whirled to find Sun behind her, grinning like a madman. A dark-haired woman stood behind him, a bow atop her head, amber eyes watching Yang carefully. Lilac eyes drifted from the woman back to her Faunus friend, before narrowing in suspicion.

“Sun,” Yang began, watching blond eyebrows rise in attention, “why did you call me to a defunct bar?”

Sun laughed at that, the sound rich and easy, echoing off the dark storefronts.

“Yeah, that was my fault,” he replied easily, “sorry about that. Read some awesome reviews online, forgot to check if the place was actually still open or not.”

Yang blinked, wondering if said awesome reviews were made before or after the gift of chlamydia, before Sun slung an arm around her shoulders and continuing.

“Anyways, forget about that,” he said, “you busy tonight?”

“Obviously not, if I came all the way out here to meet you.”

“Sweet! ‘Cause boy, I have some awesome plans for the night!”

Yang’s suspicions faded at that – nights spent between her and Sun were legendary amongst the group, as well as intolerable for the rest of their friends (there were only so many times people could wake up in a bathtub in the middle of a corn field). Going on a “sunshine” quest was a sort of rite of initiation amongst their gang, the only person returning for a second night out with them being Nora (the rest fled from invitations like vampires from sunlight). Sun inviting her out was a common, and welcome occurrence – and Yang’s qualms disappeared, for the moment.

They returned immediately when Sun lunged forwards, snagging both her wrist and that of the dark-haired woman, latching them together with a loud click, as handcuffs encircled both of their limbs. Yang and the unfamiliar woman bumped shoulders with the movement, shooting one another a look of apology before they stared back up at the man who had linked them together. Sun grinned cheekily, his arms slung behind his head in an easy-going gesture, completely ignoring the stunned look of his friends.

“And those awesome plans,” he continued, as though nothing had happened, “are that you two are going on a date!”

“WHAT?!”

Yang’s cry was swiftly overlooked, Sun pointing at the pair of women, who had varying degrees of astonishment on their faces.

“Yang, meet Blake. Blake, this is Yang.”

He dropped his hand, tilting his head as he grinned maniacally.

“You two are gonna be spending a lot of time together tonight, so might as well get used to each other now!”

“Sun.”

The low voice startled Yang, who looked at the woman it had come from. Blake was staring flatly at the blonde boy, amber eyes narrowed and dark brows quirked in question.

“Did you seriously handcuff us together to make sure we can’t ditch the date?”

“Yup!”

The easy going grin did nothing to appease Yang’s annoyance. She wasn’t upset about the whole date thing – if she was being honest, she was fighting off a blush from being in such close proximity to the raven-haired girl – but she wasn’t overly a fan of the handcuff part. It wasn’t anything sexual, but rather a great deal of memories of holding cells and cop cars were associated with the items. That, and she didn’t want Blake to feel uncomfortable.

The blonde brawler raised her hand, lifting with it Blake’s.

“Look, if we promise not to run, can you take off the stupid handcuffs?”

“No can do!”

“ _Sun_.”

The boy in question shook his head emphatically, before holding up a finger and wiggling it back and forth.

“Nuh-uh,” he said, “what fun would that be? I mean, for one, then you two can’t accidentally be inappropriate with your hands!”

“That’s a _good_ thing!”

“And secondly,” Sun continued, smirking at the blush that had arisen on the girls’ faces at the comment, “then all the things we have planned for the evening won’t work!”

Silence greeted his explanation. Then:

“What _things you have planned_?”

“Sun. Explain. Now.”

Sun laughed, holding out a slip of paper to the pair. Blake took it, reading aloud the lines with a look of incredulity.

“Eggs, bacon, more bacon, milk?”

“No, no, wrong side! That’s my shopping list for last week.”

“Well, at least we know you’re not a vegetarian…” Blake murmured, turning over the paper and continuing to read from there, Yang peering over her shoulder at the note.

“A tale of love, poor smut, and hate, will set the tone for a perfect date!”

Blake looked back up at the monkey Faunus.

“Explain.”

Sun laughed in return, shrugging.

“Well, I can’t give you the answer, that would ruin the surprise!” he stated, before pointing to the twenty-four hour bookstore behind them, “but I can tell you that your hint to the next clue can be found in there.”

“The twenty-four hour bookstore…?” Yang said, before the rest of the statement caught up with her, “wait, next clue?”

Amber and lilac eyes narrowed in on the blond boy, who was slowly starting to back away, as though preparing for an inevitable fallout (hint: he was).

“Well, that’s the thing, you see,” he clarified, his hands raising in a gesture, “we’ve got a whole night of things planned for you! Everything from drama and suspense, to dares, to surprises. Lots of stuff for you two to do together!”

Blake and Yang exchanged a look, then returned to staring at Sun, identical expressions on their faces – a mixture of disdain, intrigue, and flat out exasperation. Sun swallowed, his grin slipping slightly from nervousness as he finished his statement.

“Everything you do will lead you to the next clue, and you’ll have to do a bunch of stuff to find and finish the tasks. Aaaaand you kind of have to finish them all before we give you the keys to your handcuffs, so I’d suggest you start now – okay I can see that you’re about to hit me I’mjustgonnagogoodluck!”

With that, the monkey Faunus took off running, rounding the corner out of sight before either girl really had a chance to react.

“SUN!”

Blake and Yang yelled the name in unison, the sound echoing off the storefronts, causing nearby people to glance at them in interest. They stood in silence once the monkey trickster was well and truly gone, neither of them noticing the gathering of people atop a building, peering down over the roof at the pair. Nora’s binoculars, despite reflecting all the light in the street, went safely unnoticed, the freckled girl herself cackling at the sight below.

The stillness was broken by Blake, who raised her hand and gave a slight tug on the handcuff chain, as though to clarify that they were well and truly inescapable. The action shook Yang from her stunned reverie, reminding her that she had some vital information that could save them from their situation. She gently tugged the linked arms towards herself, inspecting the cuffs before addressing Blake.

“Got a bobby pin?”

“In my back pocket,” Blake replied, gesturing with her head behind her. Yang blushed furiously at the implication, her words stuttering.

“O-oh, well…”

Blake raised an eyebrow at her ruffled state, a cornering of her mouth quirking up in amusement. Keeping eye contact with the flustered blonde, the raven-haired woman slowly raised her free hand into Yang’s view.

Yang let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, her face turning even redder from embarrassment (Pyrrha, from above, snapped a photo to compare with her own hair colour).

“R-right…” Yang replied, laughing slightly at her mistake. Blake’s smile grew, both of the corners of her mouth lifting at the blonde. She reached into her back pocket, withdrawing the bobby pin and passing it to the blonde, who accepted it with a muttered ‘thanks.’

Yang turned her attention back to the handcuffs, removing the rubber tips from the pin and bending it to a right angle. She slipped it into the keyhole, moving it around, trying to get the tumblers to move.

“Come on…” she growled, frustration building as the seconds ticked by. A cool hand suddenly placed itself atop her own, causing lilac eyes to look up in surprise.

“Let me try,” Blake said, holding out her hand for the pin. Yang dropped it into her outstretched palm, watching curiously as the woman tried her own hand at picking the lock.

“You know how to pick handcuffs?”

Blake smirked at the question, shooting a quick glance at her newfound date.

“I could say the same to you,” she replied, turning her amber eyes back to her task at hand. Several minutes passed before she relented, withdrawing the pin and continuing to expect the handcuffs.

“I can’t get it,” she confessed, “there seems to be something… wait…”

She pointed at the edge of the handcuff around her own hand – Yang leaned in close, taking a moment to locate what she was indicating towards. Tiny, scrawled characters that Yang recognized as Sun’s attempt at handwriting were printed on the metal, in marker that had already started to wear away.

“Sorry, Yang, Blake, you can’t pick these ones!”

Yang read the statement aloud, then looked back up to her partner in crime. Lilac and amber held contact for moment, before Blake spoke.

“They know us too well.”

“Yup.”

Silence held for a brief moment, before the pair broke into quiet laughter. Yang grinned at her partner, who looked back at her with an expression of amusement.

“Odd type of knowledge to share, huh?” she asked, to which she received another smile and a nod in reply.

“Not that odd,” Blake answered, tilting her head slightly, “though I would like to hear the story of how someone like yourself learned to escape handcuffs.”

Yang laughed sheepishly, shrugging.

“Well, looks like there’s plenty of time for me to tell that story,” she replied, blonde brows furrowing slightly as she spoke, “since we’re going to be stuck together for a while…”

Blake replied so offhandedly that Yang nearly did a double take.

“There are worse people to be stuck with for the night.”

The dark-haired woman shot Yang a smirk, clearly amused by the way Yang’s face lit up once more like a stop sign (the blonde had a feeling that was going to be happening a lot over the course of the night).

“Well, you… uh… you’re not too bad? I mean, compared to others? I mean–”

Blake laughed, the sound velvety and rich, doing nothing to dispel the blush on the blonde’s cheeks.

“Are you always this articulate?” she teased, lighting bumping Yang’s hip with her own.

Yang made a show of pouting, taking a moment to gather her words before replying.

“Only around pretty girls like you.”

Now it was Blake’s turn to blush, her dark cheeks reddening slightly. She raised an eyebrow at the blonde, spitting out a single word.

“Flatterer.”

Yang laughed, Blake smiling back at her, the blushes slowly fading from their cheeks. Atop the nearby building, Nora nearly dropped her binoculars.

“I’ve never seen anyone fluster Yang like that,” she gasped, receiving stunned nods in reply, “did you see how red her face got?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever even seen Blake blush before,” Sun commented, having joined the rest of his tactical squad a bit before, “or seen her become that comfortable with someone that quickly.”

Pyrrha glanced at the monkey Faunus, red brows rising in curiosity.

“Match made in heaven?”

Sun flashed her a grin bright enough to match his namesake, nodding.

“Damn straight.”

Back in the street below, Yang had given up on fiddling with the handcuffs, letting their arms drop back down. She gestured to the paper still held in Blake’s hand, then jerked a thumb in the direction of the bookstore.

“Should we get going, then?”

“No rush,” Blake answered, “it is open twenty-four hours, after all.”

Silence followed her comment.

“That was a joke.”

Yang laughed awkwardly at Blake’s clarification, looking away in embarrassment once more. Making a fool of herself in front of the pretty woman seemed to be a common theme of the evening so far – and Yang was willing to bet it would continue.

With that, the pair turned to face the bookstore, making their way in muttered conversation towards the shop. For reasons Yang didn’t particularly want to think about, both of them almost seemed used to being handcuffed to another person – the amount of times they bumped into one another was few, and more out of general clumsiness than anything else. Despite being complete strangers, they got along rather well, personalities fitting together well – a fact that Sun belayed back to Neptune happily.

It was going to be a long night, but at least they were starting it with smiles.


	4. Boob Approval

Ruby and Weiss walked in silence for most of the way, bound to the restaurant that was scrawled in messy writing and lines that  _clearly_  hadn't been created with a ruler. Weiss quietly vowed to buy whoever had produced the map a complimentary package of school supplies, including at least five rulers. Suddenly planned night or not, there was no excuse for that level of laziness. If she was being forced into a night of dating events, then she would at least like to see some effort put into it, thank you very much.

Though were the heiress to be honest with herself, she had to admit that as far as dates went, Ruby wasn't the worst she'd ever had. It wasn't the first time she'd been set up on a date – marriage proposals for a joint deal with her family's company had coloured the early stages of her life, until she'd flatly pronounced she was a stone-cold lesbian, and her marital status had plummeted to ground zero. Beyond business dates, Weiss had still been set up by well-meaning friends for years, though most of those dates hadn't been train wrecks. Well, aside from that one day with the blond boy who spilled half his drink down his shirt, then dropped the ten condoms in his wallet across the taxi's floor (she might not admit it, but that was the point at which the allure of the male platform to dating had closed its door on her).

Still, those dates had been relatively tame, and certainly handcuff free. This was a whole new situation for Weiss – the pair were still walking as far away as they could from one another, having to carefully manoeuvre around passer by poorly placed fire hydrants – though Ruby seemed to be handling it well. Weiss briefly entertained the thought that Ruby was seasoned to the handcuffs, and that she was chained to a hardened criminal, but the way Ruby apologized for pulling on her arm with her movements swept that thought from her mind. The red-themed girl certainly didn't seem dangerous, and in many ways, unable to even hurt a fly.

But for all her apologies, Weiss did have to admit that Ruby was relatively kind – for both of them being thrown into such an awkward situation, things could have been going much worse. Despite neither of them being pleased with the scenario, they tolerated it for one another's sakes – Ruby for not wanting to offend Weiss, Weiss for having no other escape route out of it.

The pair walked in silence, drawing curious stares from those they passed as they walked. On more than one occasion, pointed fingers and muttered conversation followed them as they walked on, Ruby eventually catching on to the odd amount of notice they were getting. Sure, people being handcuffed together was weird, but this  _was_  downtown. There had been stranger things. Still, the amount of attention was intriguing, and Ruby eventually spoke up about it.

"Geez, what is their problem?" she wondered aloud as they passed another pointing couple, narrowing her silver eyes at them (which had about the effect of a feather being used as a melee weapon), "I know we're handcuffed together, but that still doesn't beat the sign over there that says 'free undies, stain-free.'"

"It's probably me that they're looking at," Weiss replied, drawing the same silver eyes back to her. Ruby's brows furrowed as she replied, confusion evident in her tone.

"Why, because you're white-themed?"

White brows raised at the comment, Weiss regarding Ruby with a look of perplexity, the redhead flushing in realization at what she'd said.

"Not in a bad way!" Ruby hurriedly elaborated, "I just mean with your white hair and jacket and boots and stuff…"

Weiss's eyebrows did not descend.

"W-well, I think it's okay? I mean, I'm wearing all red… Hey, do you think they're staring at us because we match like a candy cane?"

Weiss stayed silent throughout the girl's ramblings, both slightly amused, and confused. She studied Ruby, whose rapid words had petered out, waiting nervously for her date to react. Was it a trick? Was Ruby playing dumb? Or did she actually not recognize Weiss?

"I'm not sure if it's because of the candy cane theme," Weiss replied at last, "it's probably just more they're curious about you being handcuffed to me."

"But that handcuff thing really isn't that weird?" Ruby responded, her face scrunching up in bewilderment, "unless you just mean that we look odd together. I mean, we kind of do – I'm me, and you're really pretty, and–"

White eyebrows lifted in surprise, not questioning, as Ruby's mind caught up with her mouth. The redhead's words cut off immediately, the girl turning bright red as she realized what she'd said. She scrambled to cover, words tumbling from her mouth in an effort to backtrack.

"N-no, no, I didn't mean it like that," she began, then her eyes widened as Weiss's eyebrows rose even higher, both of them catching the implication, "No! I mean, you are really pretty – not to say that that's all there is about you – but like I meant that we looked odd, not in a bad way, not–"

The sound of stifled laughter cut her off, a red-faced Ruby looking up at her handcuff partner. Weiss had lifted her free hand to her mouth, giggling into her fist. Ruby froze at the sight – Weiss hadn't even smiled up until that point – then smiled and chuckled with her, her blush slowly fading.

The pair laughed in amusement, Weiss not offended in the least – if anything, she'd been enjoying watching Ruby try to cover for her mistake, and fail even more in the process – before the giggles faded away, and they were left standing in silence, small smiles on their faces.

Cyan eyes met silver, before Weiss spoke gently.

"It's okay, Ruby," she said, her voice sounding amused by the whole situation, "I know what you meant."

She smiled amiably as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the sight tingeing Ruby's cheeks a slight pink once more.

"Thank you."

Ruby only nodded in reply, too embarrassed to try and form a sentence. Silence returned to them, though it wasn't the same as before – it wasn't stifling and awkward, but felt more natural, the same way a pause between sentences does. Weiss reached into her pocket, pulling out the nearly-illegible map, scowling as the sight presented itself once more.

"This map is atrocious," she proclaimed, "remind me to buy whoever made this a ruler."

Ruby peered at the handwriting, then laughed heartily, prompting a puzzled look from Weiss.

"That's Nora's handwriting," Ruby explained, "and her parents own a school supplies store."

Weiss's face pinched in disapproval.

"That makes absolutely no sense."

"Believe me, I know."

Weiss shook her head, putting the paper away and tilting her head slightly towards the direction they'd previous been travelling.

"Shall we continue?"

Ruby nodded, and the pair resumed their pace, albeit slightly slower, and closer together than before. They didn't drift apart the same, more comfortable in one another's presence (several sneaky cameras caught the sight).

"So…" Ruby began, after a minute or two of walking in silence.

"I hate small talk," Weiss interrupted, her voice flat and uninterested.

"No," Ruby replied, laughing slightly, "I wasn't going to do twenty questions or anything, don't worry. I was just going to ask – how do you know Neptune?"

Weiss blinked and looked away, slightly embarrassed for having jumped to conclusions. Then she cleared her throat, and answered the question.

"He and I met through… business deals," she said, waiting for Ruby's reaction, to see if the girl would catch on. When the redhead only hummed in understanding, Weiss took it as a sign to continue.

"Our fathers loved to set us up on dates," she explained, "and when Neptune and I both realized that we hated it, we decided to work together to get out of it. We pretended to be in a fake relationship for about a year or so, because we could actually tolerate one another, and didn't have to go out with people we disliked."

"Then what happened?" Ruby asked, genuinely curious, "did it become real? A true love formed in the face of adversity?"

Weiss quirked an eyebrow at Ruby's teasing tone, smirking slightly.

"No," she replied, "we came out to one another."

"Oh," Ruby quickly responded, with not much else to say.

"Yes," Weiss finished, "oh."

There was a brief pause, before Ruby launched back into the conversation.

"Well," she said, "I grew up with my sister, Yang. She's been into everyone ever since she learned what the word 'dating' meant, so I never really realized that being straight was supposed to be the 'norm,' or whatever."

Weiss snorted at the stupid assumption, gesturing for Ruby to continue. "So when I came out to my family, they weren't surprised or anything. It was really only when I went on a date with a girl, and got yelled at by some frat boys, that I realized being anything other than straight  _wasn't_  what people saw as normal."

Ruby paused, silver eyes looking contemplative, before she grinned wickedly.

"Then we stole a page from Yang's book, and made out in front of them. Shut them all up reaaal fast."

Weiss blinked in surprise at that, not expecting the clumsy girl to have a trickster streak. Deciding not to delve too deeply into that, she moved the conversation in a different direction.

"So, your sister, Yang. She's the sort to make out with girls in front of homophobes often?"

Ruby snorted at that.

"Yang makes out with  _everybody_ ," she said, before she frowned and clarified, "not that she's got no boundaries or limits, or anything. She just doesn't really have qualms about what people think about her all the time, so she doesn't mind making people upset with her actions."

"That sounds troublesome," Weiss replied, to which Ruby shrugged.

"It's just how Yang is," the redhead continued, "nothing wrong with it, it's just her personality! Throws people off sometimes, but she does mean well. She got me through a lot of university, working some extra jobs to pay for tuition. She can be blunt, and pretty rude, and doesn't always think before she speaks… but she's a good person!"

Weiss rolled her eyes at the blatant dissing, and the kind afterthought.

"Sounds like you two have the last factor in common," Weiss teased, smiling slightly at Ruby's indignant expression, "but it also sounds like I should be thankful that that's all you two share."

Ruby grinned at that.

"Well, we can be similar sometimes," she replied, "but for the most part, we're pretty different. Especially in terms of looks – sometimes people don't believe that we're sisters."

"She looks that different from you?"

"She's blonde, taller, has lilac eyes – oh, and her boobs are way bigger."

Weiss didn't really need that bit of information.

"Er… yeah, anyways, she's pretty different from me! But we're only half sisters, so that explains it a bit more."

Weiss started at that.

"You aren't fully related?"

Ruby shook her head before replying.

"We share the same dad, but our moms are different," she explained, before she grinned widely, "he's also where we got our senses of humour from."

Weiss rolled her eyes, snarky responses about needing a vasectomy dying on her lips. Coming up with scathing retorts was a self-defence instinct for her at this point, but she wasn't about to inflict them on her handcuff partner.

"Well, thank goodness for that," she replied instead, "I don't know what we'd do without your humour. Perhaps have a conversation free of groans?"

Weiss stifled a giggle at Ruby's expression.

"Oh, no," Ruby shot back, "I'm not the one who tells puns. That's my sister – and believe me,  _they're bad_."

Weiss blinked.

"Thank you for that vital piece of information," she replied after a moment, "I will be sure to avoid your sister as much as I can."

Ruby laughed at that.

"Yeah, Yang's humour is pretty bad. It's like she inherited all the dad jokes from Pops, then combined them with the worst puns she could find on the internet. But hey, her comebacks aren't too bad – they're kind of like yours!"

"Should I take that as a compliment?"

Ruby snorted at Weiss's offended glare.

"I don't mean it in a bad way," Ruby explained, "just that you both have some pretty witty retorts. You're really good at thinking on your feet!"

A corner of Weiss's mouth quirked up at that, the woman seeming pleased. Then Ruby frowned as realization struck.

"Actually, maybe Yang's comebacks aren't that good," she muttered, thinking out loud, "they are what got us into this mess, after all…"

Then the redhead perked up, looking up at Weiss with bright eyes.

"But enough about Yang," Ruby continued, "do you have any siblings?"

"One," Weiss replied, ignoring the way her stomach clenched in reminder, "a twin sister."

Ruby opened her mouth to question her further, but Weiss cut her off before she had the chance.

"No, we're not talking about her," Weiss continued, dutifully ignoring the way Ruby's excited expression deflated, "you just said something about how Yang got us into this. Explain. Now."

Ruby chuckled nervously, raising her unchained hand behind her head.

"Well.." she began, trailing off. Weiss stared at her flatly, communicating with an ice-cold glare that Ruby wasn't going to be able to get out of this one. The redhead sighed in resignation, before she explained.

"We had this conversation last week," Ruby began, "where our friend Pyrrha asked Yang if she'd had a good date recently. Yang made some comment about Nora's sex life, Sun and Neptune made jokes over it, Yang threw me into the fray–"

"Get to the point," Weiss interrupted, causing Ruby to flinch slightly.

"Fine, fine," the girl replied, "all of our friends are in steady relationships, so they were laughing at the fact that neither of us had one."

"Sounds like great friends," Weiss muttered, to which Ruby shook her head.

"Our friendships are formed on mocking," she explained, "and they always mean well. But anyways, Yang brought up the fact that there weren't really any good dates around" – Weiss scoffed in agreement – "and then Pyrrha suggested being introduced to the 'right person,' which I guess Sun and Neptune took to mean 'hooking up friends.' It really should have just been Yang who got thrown into this mess, but I got dragged into it too, as 'collateral damage' or something."

Weiss stared at Ruby over a particular sentence she'd spoken.

"I'm sorry, they though that you and I would be the 'right person' for one another?"

Ruby shrugged, a lopsided smile on her face, the girl not taking any offense to the statement. Weiss had a point – they really didn't seem to match at all.

"I don't know," Ruby replied, "Sun and Neptune don't really think things through all the time."

Weiss snorted.

"Don't I know it," she replied, shaking her head before continuing, "well, in any case, at least now I know how we ended up in this situation."

She frowned, glancing down at her date.

"Remind me to 'thank' your sister, if I ever see her."

Ruby laughed.

"Well, I don't think you'll be the first in line to deliver some gratitude," she replied, "Yang's kind of got a long list of people who'd be willing to 'thank her.'"

She paused to contemplate on that.

"In fact, I think before you and I, whoever she's currently handcuffed to will get to be the first to give her some payback for landing us all in this situation. After all, at least we aren't chained to  _Yang_."

Weiss lifted an eyebrow, confused by the statement.

"Your sister is handcuffed to a blind date, too?"

Ruby half shrugged, half nodded.

"If what Neptune said was true, then yeah," she replied, before grinning wickedly, "and considering we heard someone yelling Sun's name from afar, I'd put money on him having been honest."

Weiss rolled her eyes, but her smile slipped loose on the corners of her mouth, the girl slightly pleased to hear that the cause of their dilemma was also in a similar one.

"Well," Weiss stated, "it is a small comfort to hear that your sister's going through the same thing. Though, I do feel sorry for whoever's handcuffed to her."

Ruby giggled, the sound akin to the ringing of bells, causing Weiss to fight down a slight blush as she mentally made the comparison.

"Who knows," Ruby replied, "maybe Yang's been stuck with someone even worse than her."

"From what you've told me about your sister, I'm inclined to believe that that's an impossible situation to exist in this universe."

"Miracles happen?"

Weiss rolled her eyes yet again (she'd already lost count of how many times she'd done it previously, and the night had just begun).

The silence fell on them, the street having thinned out of people around them, not that the conversing pair really took notice of it. The sounds of their footsteps were the only noise around for a brief moment, until Ruby sent the ball rolling again.

"So," she said again, catching Weiss's attention, "you said you had a sister?"

Weiss sighed before replying.

"I thought we said we weren't talking about this."

"Technically, you said that, not me," Ruby shot back, before she tilted her head, her voice softening, "though if it's a touchy subject, you don't have to tell me, I'll understand."

"It's not that," Weiss replied, glancing at Ruby, pausing before she sighed and continued, "it's just… complicated, between her and I."

"Aren't you twins?"

"Do you think that grants immunity against fighting with your sibling?"

Ruby cringed slightly at that, Weiss catching the harsh tone of what she'd said a second too late. She sighed, reaching her free hand up to rub the crease formed between her eyebrows.

"I'm sorry," she continued, "that was mean."

"No, no, it's okay!" Ruby said quickly, raising her hands and waving them slightly, chains clinking as Weiss's imprisoned hand followed her motion, "it seems like a touchy subject. Like I said, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No, I'm fine to tell you, I just…" Weiss let her words trail off, trying to come up with the appropriate words to explain her position, "it's always been a subject that's hard to approach, especially with people treating it like it's some kind of celebrity gossip. My sister and I used to get along, until I came out as a lesbian, and that threw her into the seat of 'marriage-approved goods.'"

Ruby winced at that, the situation unpleasant to anyone.

"That put a strain on our relationship from the start," Weiss continued, her words monotone, a practiced speech she'd used many times over, "and things really fell apart when our father chose me to be his successor, and I denied it. I never wanted that responsibility – but he refused to give it to Winter, as she was his only way to marry into more wealth."

Ruby hummed in understanding.

"So Winter," she asked, "that's your sister's name?"

Weiss nodded, letting out her breath quicker than usual.

"That's my sister," she confirmed, "Winter Schnee."

"Schnee…" Ruby repeated, trailing off. Weiss glanced down at the girl, wondering if Ruby had finally caught on to who she was – and, deep down, worrying that the easy-going girl would put her on a pedestal like everyone else she'd met, seeing her only for her name and status.

Her fears were assuaged when Ruby looked back up at her, the corners of her eyes crinkled with her grin.

"Weiss Schnee," she stated aloud, "I like that. It sounds pretty!"

Caught off guard, Weiss couldn't keep the light blush that rose to her cheeks, blinking in surprise at the compliment. She smiled a moment later, receiving the expression in tenfold from the girl she was handcuffed to.

"Thank you, Ruby," she said quietly.

"You're welcome!" came the enthusiastic reply, before Ruby pointed at herself and continued speaking, "I'm Ruby Rose, in case you were wondering."

"Rose?"

"Just like the flower!"

Weiss shook her head at the silly clarification, but her smile held no malice. Their steps slowed slightly, their path coming to a stop as they came up to the front of a dimly lit shop, paper lanterns hanging below a neon sign.

"And on that note," Ruby began, "it looks like we're here."

Weiss squinted at the glowing letters, reading the words they formed aloud.

"The Hidden Dragon?"

"… Ren."

Weiss blinked at the response in confusion, glancing at Ruby, who was staring at the sign as if waiting for it to spontaneously combust from her gaze.

"Excuse me?"

Ruby started, as though she had forgotten Weiss was there. Sheepishly she grinned as she turned to face her partner.

"Lie Ren," she clarified, "he's one of our friends. His parents run this shop – it's got really good food to begin with, but what they're really famous for is their spicy meals."

Weiss pulled the paper map out once more, reading the rhyming phrase imprinted on it.

"Spicy food," she muttered, "fantastic."

"Not good with hot temperatures?"

"They aren't my favourite," Weiss replied, putting the map away, "but I can handle them."

Ruby hummed – Weiss shot her a look.

"Are you doubting my tolerance?" she asked incredously, narrowing her eyes at the girl.

"Uh, no!" Ruby replied, a little too quickly to seem truthful, "it's just that there's spicy food – and then there's the  _Hidden Dragon_  spicy food."

Weiss scoffed.

"Preposterous," she replied, "I seriously doubt it's that bad."

"Well, if you say so…" Ruby let her words trail off, doubt colouring her tone. Weiss raised her eyebrows, glancing at her partner.

"I guess there's no other option but to enter?" she asked, receiving a confirming nod from the redhead. Before she could move to open the door, however, Ruby spoke from beside her.

"Hey, Weiss," she began, her voice uncharacteristically low and quiet, drawing Weiss's concern, "thanks for telling me all that stuff."

Weiss blinked, the gratitude unexpected.

"About my sister?" she questioned, brows furrowing in puzzlement.

"Not just your sister," Ruby elaborated, "I mean, about Neptune too. And your past and sexuality and stuff."

"For one," Weiss replied, "I don't think my sexuality was exactly a guessing point, considering we've been handcuffed together for a not-exactly-platonic date."

"Well, you could have been bi, or pan, ace, or–"

"And  _secondly_ ," Weiss continued, though she nodded slightly in acknowledgment of the truth of Ruby's statement, "to be fair, you told me much more about yourself, and your sister, than what I told you."

Ruby laughed in reply at that, smiling wide.

"It's not a competition, silly!" she grinned, "I just like to talk a lot. I don't really have much of a filter, if you've noticed."

"Believe me, I noticed."

Ruby grinned sheepishly.

"But really," the redhead continued, "I'm just glad we talked so much. I know you were kind of forced into this night, and probably don't really want to be stuck with me for all of it, but we don't have too much of a choice, so… I'm just glad we know a bit more about one another now. It's not a great way to meet someone, but if we're going to do this, we're going to have to do it together – and that's easier to do when I know things about you."

Weiss smiled at the honest words.

"That's true," she said, "we're definitely in this together, whether we like it or not. Although, Ruby?"

The redhead in question raised an eyebrow, gesturing for Weiss to continue.

"I believe there are far worse people to be chained to for a night."

The phrase, and the warm smile that came with it, sent Ruby's face into a colour to match her namesake once more. The blushing redhead smiled back at Weiss, finding no words to reply.

Weiss said nothing either, instead tilting her head towards the door, asking a silent question. Ruby nodded in reply, and the pair made their way towards the entrance of the shop, the awkwardness of the previous hour nearly completely gone, the pair finding almost comfort in each other.

Before they reached the handle, however, Weiss decided to hail back one more time to their prior conversation.

"Oh, and Ruby?"

Ruby hummed liltingly in response.

"You shouldn't compare yourself to your sister too much. I think your boobs are fine."

Fighting the satisfied, wicked grin from her face, Weiss opened the door, pulling behind her a stunned, red-faced Ruby.


	5. Pretty Pawful

Blake had always loved bookstores. Something about the atmosphere had always made the woman feel at home amongst the shelves of stacked novels and textbooks, the musky smell of old paper and sharp ink always being a comforting aroma. Libraries and bookshops were Blake’s places of refuge, her happiness found tucked away in a warm corner with a mug of tea or coffee, and an old novel to pass away the afternoon with. It was safe to say that Blake was well accustomed to bookshops.

Her date for the night, however, was clearly not.

Yang stuck out like a fart in church, the buxom blonde clumsily bumping against the shelves and stacks as she followed Blake, winding their way through the narrow aisles towards the back of the shop. She’d known Yang for less than an hour, and already Blake had gotten the sense that the woman wasn’t exactly drawn to quiet spaces, her personality suited more to noisy clubs and bar fights.

Yang bumped another shelf with her hip, the woman not quite as nimble as her quiet partner, who wove her way through the tight corners with a practiced ease. Yang, on the other hand, was like a bull in a china shop, doing her best to keep from knocking over tall stacks of books and shelving units. She wasn’t doing particularly well.

“Stupid, tiny…”

Yang’s words trailed off into a growl of frustration as she narrowly caught a book from crashing to the floor – she’d already received several glares from the woman at the front of the shop for making too much noise. It was eerily reminiscent of an elementary school library, and Yang had never liked those. Not that it was _her_ fault that the atlas pages made such great paper airplanes.

Blake turned around at her muttering, quirking an eyebrow to her partner. She hadn’t spoken much since they’d entered the shop, instead pulling Yang through the store in specific directions – Yang was getting the sense that Blake was a frequent customer.

“You alright there?” Blake asked, smirking in slight amusement at the blonde’s obvious discomfort.

“Let’s just say the sooner we get out of here, the happier I’ll be,” Yang retorted, lifting her arm to pass over another stack of books leaning from a shelf. A loud “ _shhh!_ ” sounded its way from the front of the store, where the lone employee stood post. Yang grimaced at the noise.

“Like I said,” she continued, lowering her voice – the way her husk deepened made Blake blink slightly – and giving a stink-eye towards the location of the reprimand, as though the employee could see it, “ _much_ happier.”

Blake smiled, rolling her eyes, and turned to continue winding her way through the collection of titles. She felt a slight tug on her cuffed hand, then the tension waned as Yang moved to follow her. The blonde kept whispering, her tone clearly irritated.

“I mean really,” she grumbled, “it’s not like this is exactly a busy place. I’m pretty sure we’re the only people who’ve been here all night.”

“You’re not exactly a frequent customer to bookstores, are you?” Blake inquired, glancing over her shoulder at Yang, who looked away self-consciously.

“Is it that obvious?” the blonde muttered, to which Blake smiled back at her.

“Only to someone who is one,” Blake reassured, amber eyes watching the reaction before continuing, “book stores have an ambience to them, a steady silence that you can find in any shop, anywhere.”

“Just like libraries,” Yang added, rubbing a freckled nose.

“Just like libraries, yes,” Blake confirmed, nodding, “but a little less rigid.”

“Could have fooled me,” came the reply, paired with another glare back to the uptight employee who was long out of sight.

“Book shops are more about discovering something new,” Blake continued, choosing to ignore the comment, “something you’ve never found before. A new adventure, story, piece of information. Libraries are more… borrowing things from someone else.”

“Yes, that is the premise of a library,” Yang retorted, grinning cheekily as amber eyes shot her a displeased look.

“Not like that, smart alec,” Blake returned, “it’s more that it’s something someone has already discovered, already read through. With bookstores, you get the sense that no one has been through the same story, even if it’s been in print for years. In libraries, though, you find comfort in the fact that many people have gone through it before you, like a common folk tale or something.”

Yang’s eyebrows rose as she contemplated this, raising her free hand to scratch at her chin.

“So which is your favourite?” she asked after a brief pause, glancing to Blake, who had stopped and turned around again, “libraries?”

Blake blinked, not expecting the blonde to have gotten it right. Taking an answer from the raven-hair’s silence, Yang grinned wide.

“I got it right, didn’t I?” she asked, receiving an eye roll in response.

“Yes, you did,” Blake answered, lifting a brow in inquiry, “care to explain how you figured that out?”

“Well…” Yang began, brow furrowing as she looked to the low ceiling in thought, “your tone changed when you stopped talking about libraries, and changed to bookstores. You sounded almost nostalgic when you talked about libraries, so I figured you preferred those more.”

Blake hummed in reply, surprised by the blonde’s perceptiveness. The dark-haired woman didn’t speak with a great deal of emotion unless she was riled up about something, so it was surprising that Yang had picked up on the small amount that had slipped into her phrases.

“Yes, I’ve always been more drawn to libraries,” Blake explained, watching the way Yang’s grin widened even more, “I… grew up in them a lot, and didn’t start visiting bookstores until I was older. As nice as it was to get brand new books, I always liked the way that used books held a history to them. Dogeared pages, fading ink from thumbs holding edges, worn covers – that always to me said that the book was used, was loved. And that was always a lot more welcoming than something new off of a shelf.”

Yang made a noise of understanding, nodding at Blake’s explanation.

“I can see what you mean,” the blonde replied, “though I can’t really say I’ve ever experienced it myself. I’ve never really been the sort to read much – though you already figured that out – and libraries weren’t exactly _fun_ places for a really energetic girl.”

Blake smiled at that comment, filing away the small piece of information about Yang.

“Well, reading isn’t exactly a pastime for everyone,” Blake commented, shrugging one shoulder, “certainly not everyone likes to spend the time lost in novels. What have you read, though?”

“Twenty.”

Blake’s brows furrowed in confusion at the reply.

“Come again?”

“Twenty,” Yang repeated, she herself seeming puzzled by Blake’s bewilderment, “you were asking how many books I’ve read, right? So, twenty.”

Silence fell, Blake unable to hide her expression of disbelief. Yang caught on to its meaning quickly, commenting aloud.

“That should be more, shouldn’t it.”

Blake cleared her throat, eyebrows spiking as she shook herself from her surprise, trying to regain her composure.

“Well, it’s not bad,” she began, “just surprising.”

Yang rolled her eyes at her attempts to be kind.

“You can say it’s bad,” the blonde stated, “I won’t be offended.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty bad.”

Lilac eyes squinted towards amber at Blake’s reply.

“Okay, I know I said I wouldn’t be offended,” Yang shot back, “but did you _really_ have to reply that fast?”

Blake laughed, the velvety sound absorbed by the stacks around them.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, speaking over her giggles, her tone belaying the fact she wasn’t really sorry at all.

Yang narrowed her eyes again, before she sighed in mock exasperation and planted a hand firmly on her hip, raising the cuffed one to point towards Blake.

“Alright, fine,” she retorted, “now you know something embarrassing about me, so it’s your turn to spill. You said you grew up in libraries, right? Were you, like, trying to find ‘adult topics?’”

Blake flushed, lightly punching Yang’s shoulder. The blonde, predictably, feigned great hurt, to which Blake rolled her eyes.

“No, but thanks for jumping to ridiculous conclusions,” Blake answered, pausing before wiggling blonde eyebrows prompted her to continue, “I spent a lot of time in libraries as a child because my parents weren’t around very much.”

She paused, looking up in thought.

“Or at all.”

Lilac eyes blinked in surprise, before Yang looked away in embarrassment, clearly ashamed for having poked fun at such a topic. Blake smiled, chuckling softly.

“It’s alright, Yang,” she reassured, poking the blonde’s shoulder gently, “they passed on a very long time ago. I grew up with my cousin, Adam, and his family. Libraries were just comforting when I was younger, and as my parents both loved books, they reminded me of them whenever I missed them.”

Lilac eyes widened, and Blake caught a vague glimpse of understanding on the blonde’s face – the dark-haired woman recognized the expression a moment later as one of empathy, one that told her Yang had found something in her story, more than just an explanation of her past. The blonde didn’t say anything, though, and Blake knew better than to press.

Instead, the dark woman placed a finger to her chin, tapping it in thought.

“Embarrassing story, though…” she thought aloud, before her face lit up with realization, “well, I do have one thing. When I was twelve, I got dared to try swinging under a bridge from a rope, like tarzan or something. It worked, for the most part, until it snapped and tossed me into a tree.”

She swept aside dark bangs, pointing to her left eyebrow – a faint scar ran through it, slightly raised on smooth skin.

“Needed seven stitches,” she continued, “and broke three ribs.”

Blake frowned, remembering a significant detail to the story.

“That’s also the first time I met Sun.”

Yang laughed openly at that, her face brightening with amusement. Another loud “ _shhhh!_ ” resounded from the front of the store, but Yang ignored the reprimand, choosing instead to grin widely at Blake.

“That’s pretty great,” she replied, “but I’ve got some better bone-breaking stories.”

A dark eyebrow quirked at the blonde.

“That’s a common occurrence in your life?”

Yang’s grin to Blake’s comment held no shame, only pride.

“Well, I did work in tougher areas growing up,” she explained, “had to put my sister through university somehow. I was a bouncer at a club for a while – which is in fact how _I_ met Sun – then they signed me up to fight in the cage matches there, so broken bones weren’t exactly unheard of in my line of work. That, and I was both a troublesome kid _and_ young adult, so I got into a lot of brawls and accidents, not to mention a couple of crazy nights out.”

Blake blinked at the last portion of her statement.

“Wait a minute,” the woman began, Yang tilting her head at the response, “are you Sun’s crazy drinking friend?”

Yang’s face lit up with a grin to rival her namesake.

“That’s me!” she replied happily, “Sun’s drinking buddy – you know, most people have heard of us somehow. And most refuse to go out with us again after the first time. Weaklings.”

Blake ignored the jab at other people, instead choosing to glare inquiringly at the blonde.

“So, you’re the one who put nine pounds of birdseed on my car?”

Yang froze, taking a moment to recall the memory, before–

“You _weighed_ it?”

Blake groaned in response as Yang burst into satisfied laughter, giggles spilling even as she tried to stifle them with her free hand.

“Yes, I weighed it,” Blake clarified, “or, more, the people who took the bags of it did. Do you know how hard it is to find someone who will buy back birdseed? And where did you even find a place that sells it in _bulk_?”

Yang snorted, waving her free hand.

“It was actually Sun’s idea,” she explained, throwing the monkey Faunus under the bus, “I was just the muscle behind it, because he couldn’t carry the bag himself.”

Blake pursed her lips as she brought up her free hand to rest against the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

“I don’t think I even want to know _why_ you two thought it was a good idea to cover my car with birdseed.”

“Oh, Sun did explain that one,” Yang replied, “though I was pretty drunk, so I don’t remember it too well. Something about ‘needing a way to catch birds?’ A cat joke I think?”

Yang shrugged as she finished her statement.

“Don’t really remember.”

If the blonde had noticed the way Blake had frozen slightly at the mention of ‘cat joke,’ she didn’t comment on it, instead turning to look around at the titles on the shelves.

“Hey, what are we even looking for?” Yang asked, changing the topic easily, “do you know what that note means? Because I don’t have a _clue_.”

Blake glared at her, the phrase not going unnoticed.

“I have an idea,” Blake replied, not even dignifying the blonde with a response, “but I’m not entirely sure if it’s right or not. It doesn’t really fit the clue, but it does fit Sun.”

Yang shrugged, then tossed her head towards the direction they’d previously been travelling, blonde hair swaying with the action.

“Well, that’s all we’ve really got to go off,” she answered, “lead the way!”

Blake nodded, turning and making her way through the stacks once more, Yang continuing the conversation once more.

“This is fun,” the blonde remarked, looking around her as the handcuff pulled her along, like a tether (or a leash).

“Walking through shelves of books is fun?” Blake inquired, her tone sceptical.

Yang made a noise of irritation.

“Not that,” she explained exasperatedly, “talking to you is fun.”

“Ah,” Blake responded, “well, I could say the same for you.”

Yang grinned, taking it fully as a compliment.

“Hey, want to play twenty questions?” she asked excitedly.

“That kid’s game?” Blake clarified, head swivelling to glance back at the blonde, who shrugged.

“It’s a good way to learn about people,” she vouchered, “and seeing as how we’re handcuffed on a _date_ , we might as well continue sharing facts about ourselves.”

“Hmm,” Blake responded, “got any secret deviant facts you’d like to get off your chest?”

“Funny story,” Yang answered, “I can actually balance things on my chest, so that’s a thing.”

Blake turned to quirk her eyebrow in response.

“I can’t say I’m overly surprised,” she replied, to which Yang nodded proudly.

“Yup!” she said with a grin, “they’re a pain in the ass most days, but they make a decent shelf.”

Blake rolled her eyes.

“Well, I can’t say I have any alternate uses for my body,” she said, “though I do have a birthmark shaped like a bumblebee.”

“That… is surprisingly cool,” Yang remarked, blinking in surprise before she continued, “alright, your turn. Ask me something.”

Blake took a moment to think, dragging up a slew of generic questions.

“Got any siblings?”

“One, a sister. You?”

“None. How’d you learn to pick handcuffs?”

“Oh, no, you’re not ready to hear _that_ story yet. Though I will say that it does involve Sun, unfortunate timing, and the magic of tequila.”

Blake snorted at that, before Yang continued the game.

“Where’d you get your boots from?”

“Yang, that really doesn’t count as a way to learn information.”

“Hey, the boots are cute, and it does tell me where you shop from, so that _is_ information.”

“… Port’s Port. Why have you let your hair grow so long?”

“Oh, that’s–”’

Yang’s words were cut off as she bumped into Blake, who had suddenly stopped, glancing up at the shelf before her. An array of novels were before them, their category – fiction – revealed by the labels across their spines. They stood in silence for a moment, before Yang broke it.

“This what you were looking for?”

“Mhmm.”

“Alright, twenty questions put on hold.”

“Yang, we literally only got through three questions.”

“A for effort,” the blonde replied absentmindedly, leaning forwards and squinting at the titles before her, “got an idea of what book we’re looking for?”

Blake nodded, moving with her partner to study the collection before them.

“Look for anything with ‘cat’ in the title,” she clarified, “knowing Sun, that’s what he’s picked.”

“You two have a running cat theme, huh?” Yang commented, following Blake’s instructions. The dark woman froze at the mention, but Yang kept talking.

“That’s okay,” the blonde continued, turning to flash a brilliant grin to her partner, “Sun’s got tons of dirt on me that he uses for inside jokes.”

Blake rolled her eyes for a moment, choosing not to reply. They searched in silence for a minute or two, pulling from the shelves a couple of novels with the key word in their titles, variations of ‘cat’ piling high.

“A meowful sight?” Yang suddenly stated, sliding a book off the shelf as she viewed it with high scrutiny, “okay, that’s not even well done. I mean, they could have gone with a ‘pawful’ sight, or something.”

Blake groaned softly before she responded.

“Yang, are you really judging puns?”

“Hey, a good pun is all my sense of humour really has,” the blonde replied, “and therefore I can’t let travesties like ‘meowful’ slip under my radar, because that’d just be purrfectly ridiculous.”

Amber eyes narrowed at the wide grin on Yang’s face.

“No cat puns.”

“Aw, come on, you’ve got to be kitten me!”

The glare did not relent. Yang sighed after a moment in resignation, tilting her head back in a dramatic fashion.

“Fine,” the blonde said dejectedly, “I promise not to make any obvious cat puns.”

The altered agreement did not go unnoticed.

“ _Obvious_?”

“Hey, if I’m really feline a pun, then I just got to go for it.”

Blake gave up, shaking her head and not even dignifying the comment with a verbal response. With a huge grin, Yang turned to face the shelves, before a cry of recognition slipped past her lips.

“Hey, _The Cat Came Back_! Ruby used to love this book!”

“Ruby… your sister?” Blake inquired, dark brows furrowing.

“Yup,” Yang replied easily, studying the familiar cover of the children’s book, “she’s two years younger than me. I used to read this to her all the time, back when we were growing up together. Guess it kind of fostered her love for reading!”

Blake raised her eyebrows at the statement, a great deal of information found within. Then realization struck her, and she leaned in to stare at the book.

“Wait a minute,” Blake replied, “this shouldn’t be here.”

Yang glanced over to her, lifting a brow.

“Why not?” she asked, “it’s a cat title.”

Blake laughed softly as she took the book from the blonde.

“They don’t quite file books according to associated animals, Yang,” she explained, her voice teasing lightly, “this is a children’s book, and we’re in the fiction section.”

“Kids don’t have fiction?”

“They’ve got their own department, off on the other side of the store. This book is in the wrong spot, which probably means…”

Her words trailed off as she flipped to the back cover, the answer revealing itself to her there. Words were scrawled on the inside cover, another fine showmanship of Sun’s terrible chicken scratch.

“Good job on finding this,” the small note read, “but you’re in the wrong spot. You just aren’t thinking with the right cattitude – and now, you get to bear the brunt of a cat related statement for it. Although, if you’ve figured out it this far, that’s pretty meownificent, because it means you work together pawsitively. And Blake, try and be purrsuaded by the power of these puns. Yang, stop grinning in amewsement. You’re gonna freak Blake out.”

The awful note was finished, Blake’s voice ending the last sentence in a mixture of disbelief and a tone that belayed her soul dying within. Yang stifled the grin that had only progressively been growing, staring at her partner, waiting for a reaction. It came a few moments later.

“Nope.”

Yang laughed, her face glowing with a brilliant smile. Blake shook her head, repeating the word rapidly under her breath.

“Nope, nope, nope nope…”

Yang’s laughter faded off slowly, and she cocked her head, a lopsided grin showing her clear delight at the situation.

“Now that,” the blonde began, “is how you make some proper cat puns.”

“We are not having this conversation,” Blake interrupted, her voice flat.

Yang only giggled in reply, before she turned to face the shelf again.

“Well, at least we know that what we’re looking for isn’t here,” she stated, scratching the back of her head, “but now we’re back at square one.”

She turned her head to look at Blake, lilac eyes asking for suggestions.

“What did the note say again?” she asked, “something about love, poor smut, and hate?”

“They’ll set the tone for a perfect date,” Blake clarified, nodding in confirmation.

“Hmm,” Yang said in reply, “well, if we know Sun – and I’m pretty sure we both know him really well by now – then he’s definitely picked a book that means something to you or I. And seeing as how I don’t really read, it’s got to relate back to you.”

Blonde eyebrows rose in inquiry.

“So,” Yang continued, “got any favourites that are filled with ‘love, smut, and hate?’ Poor smut, even, got to get that detail right.”

Blake thought for a moment, mentally scrolling through the repertoire of titles she’d surpassed over the years. It wasn’t any of the classics, wasn’t her poetry, wasn’t her philosophers. That only left the category of the books of her childhood, and there wasn’t anything in there that…

Blake paled, eyes widening in realization, suddenly understanding exactly what Sun had picked out. Yang, however, spoke before she could.

“Oh my god.”

Blake blinked, looking to the blonde in confusion. Lilac eyes stared back at her in realization, face fighting off a shit-eating grin – and it was then that Blake realized she’d been thinking aloud. Yang didn’t give her a chance to redeem herself, continuing to speak instead.

“You _totally_ read ‘adult topics’ as a kid.”

Blake blushed heavily, which was all the confirmation Yang needed to burst into laughter, the thought of a young girl with a bow in her hair secretly scavenging for adult topics in her books.

The dark-haired woman narrowed her eyes at the giggling blonde, who although had attempted to muffle her giggles with her hands, was showing no signs of being able to stop her laughter. Rather than chastise the woman – Blake did have to admit, deep down inside, that the information was rather funny – the raven-haired girl turned and stalked off towards a different section, dragging the chuckling blonde behind her.

Yang’s giggles had finally faded out for the most part when they reached the section Blake had lead them towards, “teen fiction” scrawled on a paper taped to the shelf end, clarifying the category they now stood before.

Knowing exactly what to look for, Blake leaned in, dragging her finger across book spines before she found her prize amongst the rest of the novels. She slipped a small black book from the shelf, familiar red text greeting her as she turned it over in her palm, the cover she’d seen many times in her childhood revealing itself once more. Yang tilted her head to read the title over her shoulder.

“Ninjas of Love?”

Blake nodded, choosing not to grace her partner with any more potentially laughter-inducing information. She flipped through the pages, trying to find the note that was surely hidden within. When both the front cover and the back cover proved fruitless, she felt the last hope within her flicker and die, knowing her dignity was being thrown to the wolves.

With as much poise as she could summon, Blake flipped the pages to a well-known, dog-eared chapter, where the ink on the corners of her copy was smudged and worn from pressed down thumbs over the years.

At the sight of a pink post-it note, slapped over what was probably the most graphic paragraph of the chapter, Blake let out a single phrase.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Yang, to her credit, waited at least a second before replying.

“Don’t you mean _kitten_?”

“No, Yang. No.”


	6. Strategic Codenames

The group was quiet, despite the excited energy that hung in the air. The small, cramped apartment didn’t have nearly enough seats for them all – it wasn’t Jaune’s fault that Ikea didn’t go on sale often enough – and many stood around, eyes glinting in the dark room. Six of them sat around the center table, a pair of keys lying in the middle of the surface, surrounded by objects of varying size – a pile of note cards, post-it notes, face paint, a police badge, and walkie talkies, amongst several other things.

The one at the head of the table, blue hair still noticeable in the dark room, laced his hands together, addressing the group gathered around him.

“The night has begun,” he stated, clear amusement in his voice, “the game is on. Things get real now, people – does everyone understand their roles?”

“Before that,” spoke the woman beside him, “can we please turn on the lights? I know Agent Hoodie doesn’t have much income, but even he can afford the electricity to light this meeting.”

“Never!” came an enthusiastic greeting from across the woman, “Come on, Pyr– er, Agent Sparta, where’s your sense of adventure? Secret meetings _must_ have a dark room, haven’t you ever seen an action movie?”

“Many,” ‘Agent Sparta’ replied, “in which the main characters could afford their electricity bill.”

“Alright, alright,” the man at the head of the table spoke again, clapping his hands in placation, “Sparta, the lights stay off, for the amusement of Agent Thor. As for the rest of you, are there any questions about how the night’s about to unfold?”

There was silence.

“Please actually respond, because with the lights off, I have no idea if you’re shaking your heads or not.”

A quiet chorus of ‘nos’ came from around him, with a couple of giggles.

“Excellent,” he continued, “are we clear to check in with Agent Mulan and Agent Frat Boy?”

“Both are on standby,” the reply came from across the room, sideburns still visible in the gloom, “targets are on their way to their locations.”

“Perfect. Do we have contact with them?”

The sound of a dialling phone was heard, a screen casting a ghostly glow on the objects around it. Several seconds later, the call was picked up, a familiar voice coming through the speakers.

“Agent Mulan.”

“Status report?” Agent Thor asked, giggling over the names.

“Targets Ice and Flower have arrived,” the voice responded, the background noise made up of rattling plates and cooking food, “creating their challenge now.”

“Excellent,” the head of the table answered, “report back with the news on how it goes.”

“Will do, Agent Poseidon.”

The call then hung up, the story of success brightening the mood of the room. ‘Agent Poseidon’ ran a hand through his blue hair, gesturing for the next call to happen. The ringing of a dial tone sounded again, this time picked up by someone with a lower, gruffer voice, speaking loudly over a thumping bass beat.

“Agent Frat Boy,” they muttered, “also, Nora, I’m going to kick your ass for dragging me into this.”

“That’s what you get for betting you can drink more than me!” came the exuberant reply, “and also, it’s freaking _Agent Thor_.”

“How’re things going, Frat Boy?” another voice interrupted, the smooth female tone cutting off the former conversation.

“Nothing to speak of yet, Gucci,” the caller replied, “neither of them are here yet, but Agent Real has just reported that they found the book.”

Laughter came from the opposite end of the table, a wide grin framed by sunburns.

“Oh man,” he said, “they actually found it. I would have thought Blake wouldn’t be caught dead revealing that book.”

The speaker on the phone continued, ignoring the comment.

“Anyways, they aren’t here yet. I’ll let you know when they are.”

With that, the call ended, silence filling the dark room once more. ‘Agent Posiedon’ stood up, his chair scraping against the floor as he rose. Planting his hands firmly on the table, he leaned forwards, staring out into the gloom. His intentions of making eye contact were dashed when he realized he could barely see any faces, but he preserved anyways.

“Everyone,” he began, “the night truly begins, now. We’ve come together to give our idiotic friends the dates of their lives, and now it’s time to make that truly happen.”

“Aw, Nep, are you giving a rousing speech?”

Neptune flipped off ‘Agent Sideburns,’ while Nora hissed something about “ _codenames_.” He turned back to the gathered group, all of them staring at him with varying levels of excitement.

“We’ve got a lot to do tonight,” he continued, “and it’s going to take a lot of effort to actually pull this thing off. But we’ve been planning this for like, three days, so I believe we can actually make this happen. We all know how much those four idiots really need a good date to happen – and we can’t let them down.”

“That’s our leader!” ‘Thor’ cried, grinning widely, “Speech, speech, speech!”

“I think that was his speech,” said ‘Agent Hoodie’ in confusion.

Neptune rolled his eyes before he kept talking.

“Now, we’ve all got a role we need to accomplish tonight, so let me run over it one last time. Agents Fantastic, Green Giant – you two are going to want to head off as soon as you can, as it won’t take long for the Candy Cane duo to finish with Mulan. When they reach you, make sure you give Agent Freckles a call – she’ll be working all night, and will wait for them. Gucci and Hoodie, be on standby for Freckles’ call.”

He turned to look in the direction of the redhead on his right.

“Agent Thor, are these nicknames really necessary? They’ll really hard to explain things with.”

“What was my one condition for helping out tonight?”

“A chance to get back at Yang for the sex comment?”

“… Fine, what was my _other_ condition?”

There was silence, until Agent Hoodie answered.

“Getting to give us all codenames,” he said, “speaking of which, couldn’t I have a better name that–”

“There’s your reason, Agent Poseidon,” Nora interrupted, cutting off Hoodie’s complaint. Neptune sighed, before begrudgingly continuing.

“Fine then,” he spoke, “Agent Sparta, you’ll be waiting nearby Agent Frat Boy’s location, yes?”

Emerald eyes blinked in confirmation.

“Once you’ve given them a… ah, _send off_ ,” Neptune continued, “be sure to give Agent Thor a heads up, so she’ll be expecting Team Bumblebee. And Thor, once they’re finished with you, give Agents Real and KP a call, so they have time to set up. And of course, Agent Herbal will be waiting for the endgame.”

He stared at the group, giving a grin in the dark room.

“Of course, I’ll be waiting to hear from Gucci to bring them home, and Sideburns will be waiting to hear from Herbal. We’ll give all of you a call when we get our notifications – that’s your cue to rendezvous. Got it?”

Heads nodded, before they realized their mistakes, and instead gave a soundoff of vocal confirmation. Neptune grinned, feeling the plan start to move, the night truly kicking off.

“Alright then,” he said, “let’s give those girls the dates of their lives!”

His rousing phrase was made less inspiring a moment later, as he moved to walk around the table, and instead tripped on a pile of who-knows-what, hidden in the dark.

“Would someone turn on the damn light?”


	7. Free Refills

The inside of the _Hidden Dragon_ was dim and lit with paper lanterns, the red lamps casting a crimson glow on the faces of those inside. The restaurant wasn’t particularly busy – only a couple of people sat at the tables and bar, nursing bowls of noodles and glasses of amber liquid. Weiss and Ruby got several strange looks as they entered the shop, bells above the door jangling as it opened and closed behind them. Not for the first time that night, Ruby sent out menacing glares to the people who stared towards them. Weiss did the same, though her glares were actually the ones that caused people to look away (Ruby was about as menacing as a cloud).

The restaurant was warm, a distinct flavour filling the air – the unmistakable tang of spices, which caused their noses to tingle slightly in reaction. It was standing in the entrance of the shop, feet implanted on a worn “welcome” mat, that Weiss realized she was in a great deal of danger. She wasn’t the most sensitive to spicy food, even if it wasn’t her favourite, but she certainly couldn’t claim to have a particularly high tolerance to it – and the fact she was reacting to the _smell_ of the shop alone was testament to what she was about to endure.

Beside her, Ruby was still sending gazes around the restaurant, daring anyone to judge them for their peculiar situation – though the potted plant probably didn’t have any thoughts on the matter. The redhead had been to Ren’s family’s shop several times in the past, but had never really ventured into the hotter end of their meals. She’d always drifted more towards their sweeter dishes, her mouth never really suited for spicy temperatures.

That was more up her sister’s alley, Yang and Pyrrha having competitions over who could handle spicier dishes, each time the red hue of their food growing more and more vibrant. It was safe to say Ruby had never taken part in those competitions, and was pretty apprehensive about trying those dishes. Tonight, however, it seemed like she wasn’t going to have much of a choice in the matter.

“Good evening.”

The low, mellow voice sounded from behind them, Ruby and Weiss startling and trying to spin to see the source, before the handcuffs reminded them that their shoulders could not bend that far. Taking a begrudging moment to decide on their orientation, the pair of women turned together, Ruby making a wide arc around Weiss.

Ren stood before them, magenta eyes curiously studying the pair. The man had always been the most soft-spoken of the group, choosing to keep the majority of his observations to himself – and now Ruby could feel him scrutinizing the pair, quietly studying them as they stood before him. After a moment of silent inspection, Ren smiled, the expression soft on his features.

“Welcome to the Hidden Dragon,” he began, raising a hand to the pair, “Miss Rose, welcome back. Miss Schnee, I believe this is your first time here, and I hope we live up to your standards.”

“My _standards_ ,” Weiss shot back, “do not include a free set of handcuffs with my meal.”

Ruby winced at the harsh tone, Weiss clearly uncomfortable once more. Whatever semblance of agreement they’d reached on their walk to the restaurant was gone, swept away by the new setting. Ren, however, did not react to her words, aside from blinking understandingly.

“Ah,” he replied, his voice steady with slight sympathy, “yes, that isn’t usually included in our menu. Unfortunately, I do not possess the key, and am under strict orders not to help you escape them.”

“Nora’s orders?” Ruby asked, receiving a gentle nod.

“That may or may not be true,” Ren answered honestly, before he let out a soft sigh, “I understand that this might not be the best way to share a meal, but I’m sure that if you two keep an open mind, you might actually enjoy the experience.”

“I sincerely doubt it,” Weiss muttered, before she returned to full volume, “but it seems you have no other option for us, so. What do we have to do?”

Ren smiled as he pulled a card from his sleeve, holding it up in front of him as he read the words aloud.

“What is a date,” he recited, “without a dinner? And what’s a dinner without learning something new about your date?”

“Excuse me?” Weiss interrupted, looking both confused and displeased.

“It’s on the card,” Ren explained, flashing the written side towards the pair before he cleared his throat and continued on, “in this challenge, you two will be faced with some of the spiciest dishes that the Hidden Dragon has to offer. How you choose to eat them is up to you – but all the meals must be consumed, and we will be watching to be sure of it!”

Ruby raised her eyebrows at her friend.

“I’m guessing you’re our supervisor?”

“You guess correctly,” Ren answered, before he read the last bit of information, “now, here is where you two learn a bit more about one another. How do you each handle spicy food? How do you balance the heat? And how, most importantly, do you manage when one of you has your dominant hand cuffed to another?”

Blue and silver eyes immediately shot to the handcuffed wrists, raising the pair of limbs up slightly as if to confirm the truth of the statement. It was, incredibly unfortunately, true. Weiss’s left and Ruby’s right were trapped together, effectively trapping the use of the white haired woman’s dominant hand – their eyes met in brief panic, before both heads whirled back to stare at their informant.

Ren raised his hands in surrender, indicating that he had no way of remedying the problem. They were trapped, with no way around it.

“I’m just going to keep reading,” Ren said, his words quicker than before, “now, you’ve probably both just realized this fact for yourselves. This might be pretty difficult, but hey, we do have a proposition for you.”

At the demanding glares sent his way, Ren swallowed and continued.

“If you successfully complete the challenge, you have the option to attempt to finish off the spiciest dish that the Hidden Dragon has to offer – and, if you complete that, we’ll give you the chance to change whose dominant hand is rendered useless, if you wish it to be so.”

“Yes.”

“We accept.”

Ren raised a hand to ward off their responses, reading the last bit on his card.

“But before you can accept, you must first finish the original challenge – eating a full course meal of our spicier dishes. Good luck!”

He lowered the card, finding two women glowering back at him. He pointed to an empty booth off in the corner, smiling as sympathetically as he could at the doomed pair.

“Shall we?” he asked.

Weiss and Ruby shared a look of begrudging acceptance, before nodding in defeat to Ren. He lead them to the round booth, the pair sliding in next to one another, awkwardly bumping shoulders as they did so. With glances of apology, Weiss and Ruby looked back towards Ren, waiting for the dark haired man to speak. He didn’t leave them hanging.

“Are you two ready?” he inquired, looking slightly taken aback when Weiss raised her hand in response.

There was a moment of awkward pause, as Ruby attempted to trap flies with her mouth, and Ren tried to reboot his brain. After a couple of seconds, he nodded to Weiss in acknowledgment, words still a bit beyond him at the action.

“I just have a question,” Weiss stated, completely oblivious to the reactions of the dark haired duo, “is there unlimited refills on water?”

It was a perfectly understandable question, but it still took Ren a moment to answer – in all of his years of working at his parents’ shop, no one had ever asked such a blatant question. He nodded again in reply, stifling a smile at the way Ruby was still staring at Weiss in surprise.

“Are there any other… questions I can answer for you?” Ren supplied, looking between the pair.

“No, I think that will be all,” Weiss answered, still not aware of the atmosphere around her, “Ruby?”

The redhead blinked in response, her brain taking a moment to process the question. It clicked a second later, Ruby visibly startling as she closed mouth, shutting off the free passageway for flies down into her lungs.

“Oh, uh, no!”

Weiss raised an eyebrow at the unexpected reaction, but chose not to comment on it, instead turning back to address Ren.

“There you have it,” she stated.

Ren nodded in reply, taking a few steps back as he spoke.

“In that case,” he answered, “I’ll fetch your first course. Talk to one another in the meantime – remember, this is a date!”

With that, he disappeared off into the kitchen, leaving the pair on their own. Ruby turned to glance at Weiss, who at least seemed to have caught on to the strange tension around them.

“Uh, Weiss?”

A white brow perked in response.

“Why did you raise your hand?”

The woman seemed bewildered that her handcuff partner would ask such a ridiculous question, her brow furrowing as she turned to fully face Ruby.

“Do you not do the same when you have a question?”

“No,” Ruby replied honestly, “usually the only place I ever need to raise my hand is in class, and even then the professors just tell you to yell out the answers.”

“Oh.”

Weiss looked genuinely confused and concerned at this – it seemed the prospect of looking foolish was more worrisome than simply being wrong.

“Er, but don’t worry,” Ruby continued hastily upon seeing her partner’s reaction, “I’m sure lots of people do it, too. And you could have done worse – you could have… uh…”

At the lack of a proposition, Weiss glanced at Ruby dubiously, watching the redhead flounder for an answer.

“Well, I can’t think of anything right now, but I’m sure someone’s done something worse!”

Weiss smiled at Ruby’s lame attempts to console her.

“Well, that’s comforting,” she said sarcastically.

“Yeah!” Ruby replied enthusiastically, before she realized what Weiss had meant, “oh, wait, you were being sarcastic, weren’t you?”

Weiss rolled her eyes in response, Ruby giggling slightly at her own mistake.

“No, but really, you could have done something weirder,” Ruby elaborated, “I mean, raising your hand is odd, but at least there’s reason behind it, right?”

Weiss hummed in agreement, before she explained in further detail.

“I’m used to meetings,” she elucidated, “you don’t exactly blurt out questions in front of important business partners, so I have a habit of raising my hand whenever I have one. I don’t go to casual things like this often, so I guess I kind of forgot that it wasn’t the usual mode of communication.”

Ruby made a noise of understanding, looking thoughtfully up to the patterned ceiling.

“So you’re in business, then?” she asked, letting the conversation move on easily, “are you still in school?”

Weiss nodded.

“Working on my masters,” she said, “I finished my undergrad a couple of years ago.”

Ruby whistled in impression, lifting her brows in appreciation.

“What about you?” Weiss continued, to which Ruby grinned wide.

“I’m in my last year of my undergrad,” Ruby clarified, “studying in engineering.”

White brows shot up at the last portion of the statement, surprised by the choice of study. The redhead didn’t really seem suited to the field of engineering – then again, Weiss contemplated, she couldn’t exactly picture her in anything else.

“I mostly made it through on scholarships,” Ruby continued, when Weiss hadn’t replied, “and what that didn’t cover, Yang did. A lot of people used to tell me that engineering wasn’t really meant for me, but Yang always said not to listen to them – and it turns out I’m good at engineering, so I guess she was right!”

Weiss hummed in understanding, tracing a finger along the napkin on the table as she replied.

“What focus are you studying in?” she asked, cyan eyes glancing to the girl in curiosity.

“Biomedical engineering,” Ruby replied easily, no hesitation in her words. Weiss’s eyebrows shot up in surprise – that was a rare field to hear of, and one she expected to be associated with the bubbly redhead even less.

“I’m really interested in prosthetics and nerve system integration,” Ruby explained, “what got me my scholarships was a project I started up back in high school, with a friend who’d lost her arm. She had a bionic hand, but it didn’t work all that well, so I started to look into ways to improve it.”

Weiss had been listening with a mixture of surprise and awe, admiring the way in which Ruby spoke of her work – there was no boasting, no over the top pride; there was simply a woman who wanted to share the results of her research.

Ruby finished her commentary, waving her free hand slightly in a gesture.

“I would explain it in further detail,” she continued, “but it probably won’t make a lot of sense, and will just sound like a lot of scientific jargon.”

She paused for breath, focusing her gaze back to Weiss.

“What about you?” she asked, “Do you study anything specific?”

Weiss shrugged at that, the answer to the question lying somewhere in between ‘yes’ and ‘no.’

“I used to,” she answered carefully, “but more recently I’m taking a wider range of courses, trying to figure out exactly where I want to take my work.”

Ruby nodded in agreement, and Weiss was thankful for the redhead’s easy acceptance – had the woman asked for more detail, Weiss wasn’t sure how she would have turned her request away.

“That’s fair,” Ruby replied, “people change their minds all the time about what they want to do. I mean, Yang went to school for a year, but she never went back after that.”

“She dropped out?”

“Nah,” Ruby elaborated, “she finished a really short degree, then decided to work just with that. She’s a mechanic – our dad was one too, and taught her most of what he knew, so she didn’t need as much schooling. She doesn’t exactly have a lot of official requirements, but most places still hire her on anyways, even if it’s just for advice. Our dad’s name was pretty famous, so she’s well known too.”

Weiss frowned slightly – that was a pretty loaded statement: a great deal of information on Yang, a mention of specific names, and the concerning fact that Ruby kept referring to her father in past tense. Choosing not to delve into complicated and emotional matters, she focused on the second topic, tilting her head as she questioned further.

“Wouldn’t you be well known for it too, then?”

Ruby laughed uncomfortably at that, raising her free hand to sheepishly scratch her neck.

“I don’t have my dad’s last name,” she explained, “I have my mom’s.”

Before Weiss could ask anymore about it, however, the rattling of plates interrupted their conversation. Both latched onto the sight of Ren coming towards them, balancing on a palm a tray with two dishes on it. They were small plates, with a familiar food placed on them – as Ren slid them onto the table in front of the women, Weiss voiced her thoughts aloud.

“Spring rolls?” she asked, looking back up to Ren, who had an expression on his face that belayed a cross of amusement and acceptance.

“Sure, let’s call them that for your sake,” Ren answered, prompting a frown from the white themed woman, “this is the first course of the night. One of our most popular appetizers, complete with the ‘Xiao Long’ sauce.”

Ruby giggled at the name, before she leaned slightly towards Weiss to explain.

“’Xiao Long’ is Yang’s last name,” she clarified, “one of the times we were in here, she declared the sauce was so hot it should be on fire, and then lit it aflame.”

Weiss rolled her eyes.

“Classy.”

Ren continued on, ignoring the woman’s comment.

“It’s a simple start,” he explained, “and not much to take in. Enjoy!”

Ruby and Weiss both snagged a pair of chopsticks before them, Weiss taking an extra moment to fumble with the pair of wooden utensils, unaccustomed to eating with them. She wasn’t one for multicultural restaurants – the most cultural variations in her meals usually came from dinners with clients, and those didn’t have wild, unfamiliar foods, so as not to put off the guests.

Almost immediately, they hit an obstacle – chopsticks were hard enough for Weiss to use with her dominant hand, and with it being cuffed to Ruby’s, she had no chance. Ren cleared his throat – when both women glanced at him, he looked away, his hand subtly pointing to the forks laid on the table in front of them.

Well. It did appear that the man with the magenta streak did have a bit of sympathy to him, after all.

Less than acceptingly, the pair picked up the alternate utensils, inelegantly stabbing the spring rolls and raising them up towards their mouths. With one last, shared, apprehensive glance at one another, they both took a bite.

Now, it was safe to say that while Weiss didn’t eat spicy food very often, she still had a moderate handle on her sensitivity to it. She didn’t particularly enjoy heated flavours, but she’d had her fair share of them – both on the rare occasion that her business meetings had it, and the times people had dared her to drink Tabasco sauce, knowing how red her face would turn.

Even those experiences, however, paled in comparison to what she had just put into her mouth. She coughed instinctively – which, arguably, only made things worse – dropping her fork to cover her mouth, forcing the flaming food down her throat. Immediately it felt like a trail of fire had just drawn a line from her mouth to her stomach, a burning sensation making her eyes water.

Beside her, Ruby wasn’t fairing much better, the redhead swallowing visibly before taking an audible breath.

“Oh my god,” the woman choked out, her voice tight, “now I know why Yang calls it ‘giving Satan a blowjob.’”

Weiss snorted at the crude comparison, the action making her cough harder – Ren winced sympathetically and pushed the glass of water towards her, which Weiss happily accepted. Ruby waved hers away though, causing Weiss to pause before taking a drink – the redhead pointed to Ren, tears in the corners of her eyes.

“I know what game Nora has told you to play,” she growled, her pitch noticeably higher, “and I’m not falling for it. Bring us the damn milk, Ren.”

Weiss blinked in surprise at the curse, while Ren smiled knowingly, chuckling lightly at her response.

“Nice catch, Ruby,” he replied, “I’ll go get it for you two. Just make sure to tell Nora that you figured it out on your own, if she asks.”

With that, he withdrew, making his way out of sight once more. Weiss turned to glance at her red-faced, red-haired partner, speaking around a sensitive tongue.

“Milk?”

“You don’t know?” Ruby replied, nudging away the glasses of water, “water doesn’t help spicy food at all; if anything, it can just make it worse. Water and oil don’t mix, so at the very least, it does nothing – and at the worst, it only spreads the heat. Milk neutralizes it the oils though, or something, so it helps with the burn.”

“That’s more or less it,” Ren confirmed, making his way back to the table with two tall glasses of the white liquid. He handed it to the pair – Weiss took a sip, internally sighing at the slight relief; Ruby gulped nearly all of hers down in one go.

“You are one hundred percent going to have to pee by the time this meal is over,” Weiss stated flatly, staring at her partner, who shrugged and licked away her milk moustache, missing half of it.

“Don’t care,” Ruby replied, though her words were half obscured by the way her tongue protruded beyond her lips, attempting to catch the last of the drops. Weiss stared at the sight for a moment, before she made a noise of exasperation and all but threw her napkin towards Ruby. The redhead caught it in surprise, then caught the meaning afterwards, smiling sheepishly as she used it to dab off the rest of her dairy facial feature.

Ren kept down his smile at the sight, suddenly believing more and more in Neptune’s words of reassurance over the ‘candy cane duo balancing themselves out.’ Speaking of the themed duo, they’d both turned back to face him – he pointed to the unfinished rolls on the plates.

Weiss turned back to face him, pointing to her half-filled glass, and Ruby’s empty one.

“There are free refills on this too, right?”

“Weiss, you forgot to raise your hand,” Ruby stage whispered, giggling at her own joke, before yelping as Weiss flicked her forehead. Ren chuckled softly, nodding in reply to Weiss’s question, before he pointed towards the half-finished plates.

“You do need to finish those, you know,” he stated flatly, receiving a pair of displeased, loud groans in response.

“Seriously?” Ruby asked incredulously, groaning again at the nod sent her way. She leaned her head back, rolling it to look at Weiss.

“Try again?” she asked, to which Weiss sighed.

“Do we even have a choice?” the white haired woman replied.

“Nope,” Ren answered for her, not even bothering to try and hide his amusement. Weiss shot him an icy glare, before picking back up her fork and staring hatefully at the food on it, as though wishing it would disappear from her willpower alone. Ruby picked hers up as well, shooting Weiss a mournful glance.

“All in one go?” she asked.

“Seems the better way to do it,” Weiss replied, “rather than drag out our torture even further.”

Ruby nodded, visibly steeling her resolve.

“On three then,” the redhead clarified, then began counting down.

“One… two… three!”

On the last number, the pair shoved the remaining rolls into their mouths, chewing as little as possible before swallowing. The fiery sensation returned, but this time, Weiss was prepared, snagging her glass and chugging down the cool liquid. Ruby, unfortunately, had finished off her glass already – she yelped in panic, forcing words around her burning mouth.

“Milk, milk, milk!”

Ren, who had foreseen the upcoming dilemma, had already gone to fetch some as soon as they had picked up their forks. He returned with two tiny glasses, sliding one to Ruby, who immediately swallowed half of it. He let the pair recover, keeping his comments to himself as they got over their near-death experiences.

Eventually, Weiss  recovered enough to glare at the glass she’d been given, studying it with a critical eye.

“Did you give us _shot_ glasses full of milk?”

Ren only shrugged in response, answering simply.

“Everything else in the kitchen is dirty,” he explained, “this is all we have left.”

Weiss shook her head; Ruby didn’t have any interest in the conversation, instead staring at the leftover sauce on her plate.

“Say, Ren,” she began, “I _know_ I’ve had this dish before, and there was _no_ way it was this spicy last time. Did you, like, crank up the heat this time, or something?”

At this, Ren could not contain his laughter. His chortles drew the attention of both women, identical looks of confusion passing onto their faces.

“It’s less that we cranked up the heat this time,” he explained honestly, “and more that we pushed it down every other time.”

Ruby looked entirely offended over this truth.

“You mean you’ve been treating me like the painfully white people who enter this shop?”

She paused, then turned to face Weiss.

“No offence.”

Weiss glared back at her.

“I think I’m more offended by the fact you think I’m ‘painfully white’ than the statement itself,” she clarified, but Ruby had already turned back to Ren, who was smiling in clear delight.

“Not quite on the level of the ‘mustard is spicy’ crowd,” he explained, “but yes, we’ve never made you the dishes at their full level. To be fair, though, most of the group doesn’t eat them at full heat. The only people able to are Pyrrha, Yang, and Velvet – and even they can only handle it at a stretch.”

“And Nora,” Ruby supplied, to which Ren shrugged.

“And Nora,” he agreed, “though, to be fair, I think she destroyed her taste buds years ago in that drinking competition with Yang, so I honestly don’t think she can sense the heat anymore.”

Ruby snorted at that, though it was clear she was still slightly miffed over the information that had just come to light.

“Stupid mixed blood,” she muttered, drawing a confused look from Weiss, and a laugh from Ren.

“Blood’s got nothing to do with it,” he comforted, “or else your sister would be able to handle her meals better.”

Ruby stuck out her tongue in response; Weiss only became more puzzled by the family relations. Ren continued on, dropping the debate over spice levels, and moving on to a new topic.

“Congratulations on finishing the first meal,” he said, drawing the attention to him as he collected their empty plates, “how do you feel about moving on to the next one?”

Weiss and Ruby shared a look before replying.

“I think we’re ready to move on,” Weiss answered, “that was relatively bad, but it is manageable.”

“Yeah,” Ruby agreed, “I think we can make it through the rest of the meal, if the rest are that spicy.”

The silence that greeted them was all the answer they needed.

“They’re not all going to be that spicy, are they?”

Ren still did not answer.

“Oh my god, that was the lowest level.”

At this realization, Ren nodded in confirmation. Both women groaned loudly again, drawing the attention from the nearby patrons – those surrounding them had been intrigued by the handcuffs in the first place, but the dramatic reactions of the pair were only adding to that curiosity.

“You mean that was the _lowest_ temperature you’re giving us?” Weiss clarified, looking almost hysterical over the fact, “oh my god, I’m not going to be able to taste anything for the rest of the week.”

“Forget the rest of the week,” Ruby answered, “I’m more worried about how this is going to resurface tomorrow.”

It took a moment for the meaning of her words to register, but when they did, Weiss’s face turned a shade of red that had nothing to do with the heat.

“Ruby! Gross!” Weiss yelped, turning and whacking Ruby on the head lightly with the drinks menu that had come with their table. Ruby apologized amongst giggles, trying to fend off the weak attacks.

Ren blinked, still slightly put off by Ruby’s comment.

“And on that delightful note,” he said, “I’m going to fetch your next round.”

“Bon voyage,” Ruby replied, waving her crumpled napkin at him in lieu of a farewell.

Weiss both rolled her eyes and snorted at the action, caught between amusement and disdain. Ruby slumped back in her seat, Weiss doing the same a moment later, albeit much more elegantly. They sat in silence for a brief moment, before Weiss tilted her head to look over at Ruby.

“Did you _really_ have to make the ‘resurfacing comment?”

Ruby laughed heartily, the tail end of her giggles turning into snorts.

“I couldn’t help it,” she defended, “it just slipped out before I could help it.”

Weiss groaned at the phrasing, reached up her free hand to reach between her brow.

“ _Please_ find a way to say that better,” she said, “especially when following recent commentary.”

Ruby laughed even louder at that, Weiss rolling her eyes slightly as she smiled, the pair falling into a comfortable silence.

“Hey, Weiss,” Ruby said, catching the woman’s attention once more, “you really think we’re going to make it through this?”

“The courses?” Weiss asked, her brow furrowing. Ruby shook her head.

“Not just the meal,” she explained, “the whole night.”

Weiss shrugged, looking away towards the hanging lanterns across the room.

“It’s hard to say,” she answered honestly, “I honestly can’t say we will, but then again, I shudder to think about what will happen if we _don’t_ manage to finish all the tasks our idiotic friends have set out for us.”

Ruby giggled slightly at that.

“True,” she agreed, “but hey, at least we’re sort of having fun, right?”

Then the redhead paused, frowning in contemplation before she looked at Weiss.

“You are sort of having fun, right?”

Weiss turned to look at her, meeting the silver gaze. She paused before she answering, smiling slightly as she closed her eyes and turned away.

“Yes, Ruby,” she answered, “I am sort of having fun.”

Ruby let out an audible sigh of relief.

“That’s good!” she responded, “I was really worried you’d hate me or something, and really just only put up with me to get through everything, so I’m glad to hear you’re actually kind of enjoying the night. Honestly, you were kind of scary when we first met, but I’m glad you aren’t as cold as you seem to be!”

Weiss opened her eyes, but didn’t reply. Ruby paused, wincing as the thought of possible offence crossed her mind.

“Uh, not in a bad way, of course,” Ruby clarified.

“I know what you meant, Ruby,” Weiss answered, “It’s okay. I was just thinking.”

“Oh. Okay!”

They fell in silence – Ruby comfortable, pleased that her words hadn’t offended her partner. Weiss, on the other hand, was lost in thought – Ruby’s words, whether the redhead was aware or not, had alerted the white haired woman to a peculiar controversy.

The truth was, Weiss _was_ cold at first – and it often took her a very long time to warm up to anyone, especially people she had just met. Even with Neptune, who she had pretended to be in a relationship with for a long time, hadn’t had the chance to get close to her for several years. It was how Weiss was, how she was used to being; it wasn’t something she disliked or was fond of, but was rather neutral towards – just another part of herself.

But around Ruby, she found it didn’t apply; around the redhead, Weiss was different, more relaxed. Words came easier, lighter, and she didn’t have the same qualms about what she said or did – aside from the Schnee relations – as Ruby took everything in stride. While Weiss didn’t really take this to mean anything overly significant, she did find it curious. Perhaps, she wondered, this was why Neptune had decided to throw them together like this – maybe the blue-haired boy had seen something aligning in their personalities that neither of them could.

Her moment of brief contemplation, however, was once again interrupted by Ruby’s phrase.

“Hey, Weiss?”

“Mhmm?” came the hummed reply, soft and quiet.

“I didn’t want to tell you in front of Ren, but when you coughed earlier, a bit of spring roll flew out of your mouth. It’s still stuck to the other side of the booth.”

“RUBY!”

 


	8. Go for a Ride

Yang thumbed through the dog-eared pages of Blake’s naughty novel, internally giggling over the fact that despite being a new book, the particular chapter had been flipped through many times before, even tabbed by one brave (or desperate) soul. Blake, on the other hand, was studying the pink post-it note, ignoring her partner’s glee from beside her.

Amber eyes drifted from the slip of obnoxiously neon paper to study the blonde, who was making quiet noises in reaction to the text on the pages. After a particularly amused ‘ahh,’ Blake rolled her eyes and reached out to tug the book free from Yang’s hand. Lilac eyes shot up in surprise, an expression of feigned hurt coming onto the blonde’s face, reminding Blake a great deal of a golden retriever whose tail had been stepped on.

“But Blaaaaake,” Yang drawled, any pretence of being quiet swept away by her feigned offence, “Saru was about to go down on Chiteki!”

“First of all, it’s _Chiteki_ , not ‘Cheyetekee,” Blake shot back, looking genuinely offended by the mistake, “and secondly, now is not the time to be reading adult fiction!”

Yang snorted, tilting her head and quirking an eyebrow as she responded.

“Adult fiction, my ass,” she retorted, “you do realize that’s some awful smut, right? I mean, come on, teenagers on the internet could do better. _Do_ do better.”

“And you would know, wouldn’t you?” Blake responded flatly, earning herself sputtered laughter from the blonde.

“Actually, Ruby would know!” Yang explained, once again demonstrating a tremendous talent for tossing her sister into the spotlight, “she’s the one who used to read fanfiction and stuff.”

She then thrust her thumb towards herself, grinning wide as she did so.

“Not the reading type, remember?”

Blake rolled her eyes.

“I hadn’t exactly qualified fanfiction to count in the list of reading that you’d done,” the dark haired woman responded, before holding up the shockingly pink post-it between them, “but more importantly, what are your thoughts on this?”

Yang took it, studying it briefly before commenting.

“I have a bra that matches this colour _exactly_.”

The blonde laughed heartily at Blake’s noise of exasperation, giggling as she focused back on the paper.

“Okay, okay,” she said, then read the words on the post-it aloud, “‘Alright now, Yang, I’m sure you’ve had your fun laughing at Blake – but now her turn is done. So head to a place where you’ve put on a show – where the tension is high, and the bass drops down low!”

She finished the sentence, but didn’t reply any further. Blake didn’t need to ask what it meant, however – it was clear that the blonde had already figured it out, her tan skin paling, causing freckles to stand out along her cheeks. Yang blinked, then read the note again – once, twice, three times over. When the words, unsurprisingly, failed to change under her scrutiny, the blonde groaned loudly, tilting her head back and raising her free hand to smack it audibly against her forehead.

“Tell me they didn’t…”

Blake raised an eyebrow in inquisition, watching Yang drop her head back down dramatically, shoulders slumping forwards, blonde hair moving with the action.

“Oh, do I get to laugh at you now?” Blake asked, hiding her smirk at the way lilac eyes glared up at her through a blonde fringe.

Yang sighed heavily, her whole frame accentuating the action, before she straightened up, running a hand through her bangs and brushing them back (Blake swallowed, unbidden, at the sight).

“Those absolute freakin’ idiots,” Yang muttered, the usual smiling face settling into an annoyed frown. She sighed again, closing her eyes and lifting her brows in exasperation, before lilac lenses popped back open and stared straight into amber.

“Alright,” the blonde began, Blake blinking for her to continue, “since my friends are apparently brain dead, they’ve picked the worst possible location for the next thing we have to do, whatever it might be.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” Yang confirmed, her mouth pressed in a straight line, “there’s nowhere else that could possibly mean.”

“Well… what’s so bad about it?” Blake asked, reaching out to take the post-it back from the blonde. She reread the note, looking for the same doomsday meaning that the blonde found in it, but discovered nothing. Must be a personal thing, then.

Yang muttered something under her breath, obviously not meaning for it to be caught, but Blake caught it anyways.

“You blew up a _what?_ ”

Yang blinked, startled, before her eyes narrowing and she leaned in towards Blake.

“What, do you have super hearing, or something?”

“Or something,” Blake shot back, “and don’t try to change the subject. Did you say a _club_?”

Yang muttered again, this time a string of impressive curses, before she spoke at full volume again.

“I may or may not have accidentally destroyed a club out on the East Side.”

Silence met her statement.

“You did _what?_ ”

Yang winced at Blake’s question, the dark woman’s tone filled with disbelief and incomprehension.

“It wasn’t my fault, okay?” Yang replied, “well, not entirely – look, I’m not the one who started the turf war!”

There was silence again. And then a ‘ _shhhh!_ ’ sounded once more from the front of the store. Yang’s face scrunched up in irritation, the blonde whirling to yell what would most likely have been a curse word when Blake snagged her ear, giving it a slight tug.

Yang yelped, but stayed quiet otherwise, and Blake let go. Yang leaned away immediately, reaching up to rub the now sore tip of her ear.

“What was _that_ for?” she asked, looking at Blake with an expression of not-so-feigned hurt.

“I happen to like this store,” Blake explained, “and I’d rather you not get us both kicked out of it, regardless of how annoying the cashier attendant might be.”

Yang frowned, but looked away in acceptance. Blake returned her attention to the post-it, the blonde now placated, and phrased her question aloud.

“I’m guessing we need to return to the club you blew up, then?”

“You really shouldn’t have accepted that fact so easily, you know.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, would you rather we return to twenty questions? I know what to focus on now.”

Yang, true to her large repertoire of scathing comebacks, stuck out her tongue. Blake shook her head, smiling, and nodded her head in the direction of the exit.

“Shall we get going again?”

Yang grimaced, began to nod, then rapidly shook her head.

“Was I supposed to understand that?” Blake asked, confusion clear on her face. Yang sighed exasperatedly, reaching up with her free hand and dragging it down her face, gruesomely elongating her features as she did so. Blake scrunched up her face at the free show of Yang’s eyelids; Yang sighed again.

“Look,” the blonde explained, “we don’t have a choice in going, but we _do_ need to be really careful. I’m not supposed to show my face in there ever again – and while I normally wouldn’t care about that, this place is run by a gang, of sorts. I mean, they’re the lamest gang ever, a bunch of fedora wearing morons who bring bats to a gunfight, but they still have strength in numbers.”

“And if they see you, they’ll go after you for revenge?”

“Mhmm.”

Blake raised their cuffed hands.

“And seeing as how I can’t get away from you, I’ll be dragged into this as well?”

“… Yes?”

Now it was Blake’s turn to sigh. She narrowed amber eyes at the blonde, reaching out her hand and pointing a lithe finger towards the woman.

“My task was only embarrassing,” she stated, “yours, on the other hand, appears to be throwing us into a warzone.”

“Hey, it’s only a warzone if we get caught!”

Amber stared frustratingly into lilac. Yang grinned sheepishly.

“Okay, fine,” she admitted, “my task is admittedly more dangerous. But what’s a night without a little adventure?”

“You seemed to be enjoying your little ‘adventure’ in reading poor smut,” Blake shot back, smirking as she placed said smut back onto its shelf, pocketing the post-it, “but I suppose a change of pace is nice.”

“Wait… you aren’t mad about this?”

Blake blinked at the nervousness in Yang’s tone, hearing for the first time the blonde sounding truly worried.

“No, Yang, I’m not mad,” she reassured after a moment, tilting her head slightly as the blonde looked up to meet her eyes, “confused, yes, and possibly a bit concerned over how we’re going to get out of there, but not mad.”

The blinding grin shot her way could have lit up the entire street.

“That’s great!” Yang responded, usual enthusiasm back in its rightful place, “honestly, most people hate finding themselves in situations like this – I mean, I get that it’s not something you want to be in, but at least try to deal with it, you know?”

“Is that what you tell most dates?”

The amusement was clear in Blake’s tone – Yang shot her an unamused look before continuing.

“Anyways, if you’re worried about how we’re going to escape, I do have a bit of a plan.”

“Blowing the club up _again_ does not qualify as an ‘escape plan.’”

“I didn’t even tell you how I blew it up in the first place!”

Yang’s indignant phrase brought the conversation to a standstill – Blake looked at her partner in shock, brain processing the sudden confession, before she burst into laughter. Yang half frowned, half chuckled as Blake’s velvety laughter filled the space around them, the dark woman finding the whole situation _very_ amusing, at Yang’s expense.

“Is that,” Blake forced out through giggles, “where you had to learn to pick handcuffs?”

Lilac eyes narrowed at the snickering woman, Yang seeming almost offended in her answer.

“Why do we keep drifting back to that?” she asked, more of a rhetorical question than anything else, “also, no, I had learned it before then. The knowledge just certainly came in handy at that moment.”

Blake rubbed a hand across her eyes, catching the few beads of water that her mirth had produced. She let out a few final giggles, as her gaze lifted back up to Yang, who glared back in a less-than-threatening manner.

“You done?” Yang asked darkly, her eyes squinting slightly at the dark haired woman. The comment, and its annoyed tone, was almost enough to send Blake back into giggles. She kept her recently gained composure, however, instead nodding to the blonde.

“Good,” Yang answered, “because while I would have stalked out of here angrily at your laughter, I would have immediately gotten lost in this maze of a bookstore, and I’d spend the next hour wandering through the stacks.”

“Not to mention the fact that we’re handcuffed together,” Blake interjected, “that might make it a little hard to ‘angrily stalk away.’”

“Yes, that would throw a bit of a wrench into my plan.”

“Well, thank you for not attempting it anyways.”

Yang’s smile was back by the end of the dialogue, any hints of the former malice gone. The blonde was quick to forgive and forget, which Blake was finding herself grateful for – several times, she’d put a rift in a conversation with her snark, which could often be taken the wrong way. Yang, on the other hand, seemed to think with her heart, letting her emotions and reactions be honest and ever changing.

Speaking of constant change, the blonde’s position was anything but static – the woman fidgeted constantly in her spot, her hands never idle, often tapping an unknown beat against her thigh. Lilac eyes examined the spines on the shelves, the sloping ceiling, before falling to rest upon amber pupils, which stared back at her in curiosity.

“Eager to go?” Blake mused, earning a sheepish grin from her partner.

“Being in really quiet places for too long makes me nervous,” Yang explained, scratching the freckled bridge of her nose. Blake smirked at her honesty, tilting her head in the direction they’d come from.

“Lead the way, then,” she stated, Yang grinning as she obeyed. The blonde led them back through the bookshelves, Blake offering up directions when they reached crossroads, weaving their way back through the stacks. As they neared the front of the store, Blake struck up the conversation again, whispering a question towards the blonde.

“So,” she began, innocently enough, “going to explain exactly what led you to blowing up a club?”

“Unless I absolutely have to, no,” came the quick reply, Yang not even bothering to turn around as she answered, “it’s not exactly one of my proudest moments, so I’m not very fond of recounting it.”

Blake made a noise of understanding, before she responded in full.

“Well, if I can’t know the backstory, will you at least let me know what I should watch out for? Since I’m heading off into a ‘warzone’ and all.”

“Like I said, only a warzone if I get caught. And there isn’t too much to be on the lookout for – hopefully whatever the dork parade has cooked up for us is fast, so we won’t be in there for long. That, and when I find out which idiot has decided that this is a good idea, I’m going to knock them into next week.”

“I assume that’s the mentality that got you into this situation in the first place?”

A lilac glare shot over a shoulder; Blake pulled her hands up in self defence, though only one fully rose – the other jolted to a stop halfway, pulling Yang’s arm back with the motion.

“Alright, alright,” Blake replied, “I’ll stop asking. Although, aside from keeping an eye out for anyone who looks like they might have planned this disaster, should I be aware of anything else?”

Yang shook her head, the curtain of blonde hair in Blake’s view swinging with the motion.

“It’ll be dark, and the music will be loud, so with any luck, no one will notice us. At least, not for a while. If any of the fedora wearin’ freaks do happen to spot us, well… I’ll decide what to do then.”

Fair enough, Blake mused, though she doubted Yang would go unnoticed for very long – her hair was sure to reflect bright lights, especially those of a club. Her chance to comment on such matter was lost, however, as they returned to the front of the store, the same bored employee watching them go.

Yang made eye contact with the woman as they left – brown eyes under a fringe of pink hair narrowed at the blonde, and an immediate tension was formed in the air. Yang stuck out her tongue slightly at the employee, who smirked – Blake immediately realized what was coming. Before she could stop it, the tri-coloured woman took a breath, opened her mouth, and made a single sound.

_“Shhhhhhhhhhhh.”_

Blake yanked Yang out of the bookstore by the chain before the blonde could add ‘twenty-four hour bookshop’ to her list of destroyed establishments. Yang made a noise of indignation and curses – amongst the swearing, Blake caught the familiar phrase of ‘fight me!’ – but didn’t drag Blake back in, though the dark haired woman had the feeling that her blonde compatriot had the strength to do so.

With a sigh of finality that rocked her shoulders, Yang turned to leave, stalking away from the glass pane of the bookstore, Blake following amiably behind her. They reached the curb and stopped, Yang pausing to place a hand on her chin, tapping a finger against it as she thought. A moment later, her eyes lit up with inspiration, and she turned to Blake.

“Wait here,” she said excitedly, and moved to leave – a yank of a chain reminded her of her blunder a moment later, pulling her back to Blake, who raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Oh, uh, right,” Yang said sheepishly, “I’m just so used to saying that in every other occasion – guess you’ll have to come along with me then! Hope you don’t mind getting a little dusty…”

Blake raised an eyebrow in interest, but didn’t reject the statement, instead letting Yang pull her towards the abandoned club Sun had originally called them to, complete with it’s ‘STD Spawn Site’ sign. The door was boarded shut, but Yang paid it no mind, instead moving to stand beside it, looking around in search of something. At this, Blake decided to ask.

“Any particular reason we’re trying to enter gonorrhoea central?” she asked, a soft chuckle coming from her partner.

“We’re not trying to enter it,” Yang replied, still glancing around, “I’m just trying to see – ah! Found it! Uh, bear with me for a moment, alright?”

The blonde woman moved inside the cramped entranceway, stretching up to reach a towards a poster papered to the wall – ‘free hickeys after midnight,’ Blake read in amusement – and grabbed the corner of it, pulling part of it away. Yang made a noise of delight, the poster no longer obscuring a metallic object taped to the wall behind it. She pulled off the object with a tearing of tape, and dropped back down to her normal height, flashing the item to Blake.

“A key?”

Yang nodded at Blake’s statement, grinning wide.

“Remember how I mentioned being a bouncer?” the blonde asked, Blake nodding in reply, “well, I also learned to bartend, when they realized I was a lot better at it than just keeping folks in line. I used to fill in shifts on busy nights at bars nearby, when they asked for it – I came here from time to time, back when it wasn’t known for its… ah, _gifts_.”

She jerked a thumb in the direction of the torn poster, still talking as she did so.

“The employees there had this system,” she explained, “that if something happened on a shift – like staying late to clean and missing the last bus, or lending your car to a friend to drive someone home – then there was an ‘alternate’ mode of transportation. The key was hidden up here; I figured that they were pretty preoccupied with being shut down and all, and didn’t bother to take it back.”

Blake hummed in understanding, slightly impressed by the blonde’s resourceful thinking.

“So,” the darker woman replied, “what is this ‘alternate’ mode of transportation, then?”

At this, Yang grinned sheepishly, clearly not overly proud of the answer.

“Not the best thing,” she admitted, “but it’s a relatively long walk to the next place, and taxis are expensive, so… I figured this will do, for now?”

Blake shrugged slightly.

“Better not dismiss it until we see what it actually is,” she answered, “lead the way, Yang.”

In a closing café patio across the street, a brown-haired woman leaned towards her companion, who sat with their legs crossed, bright red hair visible in the night’s light.

“Should we ask Sun to tell them that their taxi fare is free for the night?”

“Nah,” the companion replied, a cunning grin wide on their face as they watched the black and yellow pair disappear around the corner of the building, “I want to see them attempt to ride that thing together. We can always tell them after.”

The woman rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue, signifying her own enjoyment of the pair’s creative solution.

“Well, come on then, ‘Agent KP,’ we’d better follow to make sure they don’t slip out of sight for good.”

Blake and Yang had, in fact, made their way around the corner of the building, through a graffiti filled alleyway. Blake made a noise of appreciation at the colourful sights, Yang raising an eyebrow in curiosity before following her gaze to the patterned walls.

“You like graffiti?” she asked, her tone not judgmental, but genuinely intrigued.

“I have… an appreciation for it,” Blake answered coyly, waiting for the blonde to further question her about it. When Yang didn’t, neither made a move to continue the conversation, words only returning to them as they left the alley and came within viewing distance of their ‘transportation.’

“Yang.”

The woman in question closed her eyes slightly, knowing exactly what was coming.

“Tell me that isn’t the ‘ride’ you had in mind.”

Yang laughed, which was all the confirmation Blake needed to let out a loud, drawn out groan. Before them was what might have once been a bike, but was now something worthy of being called a ‘rustmobile’ – everything down to the handlebars had flecks of copper coating across them, the chain looking like it would snap with the tiniest bit of pressure. It was, in short, a piece of crap.

Blake turned from studying the metal disaster to find Yang looking back at her, an expression of amusement over her reaction poorly concealed on freckled features.

“We’re taking _that_ to the club?” Blake clarified, “it doesn’t look like it’ll even move five feet down the road before it falls apart. And if, by some miracle, it actually does, the brakes look like they rusted out years ago – that thing is a death trap waiting to happen, Yang.”

“Granted it’s been left alone for a little too long,” Yang began, sighing and rephrasing her words with a pointed stare from Blake, “okay, for _way_ too long. Still, it beats trying to walk everywhere, and it’s way cheaper than a taxi.”

“Taxis are arguably far less expensive than the hospitable bills we’ll have after we crash on that thing,” Blake muttered, then sighed in relent, “but fine, we’ll give it a shot.”

“Great!”

Yang sauntered over to it, Blake trailing behind her with an expression of apprehension, still not entirely ready to place her trust in a rusted death trap. They reached it, and Yang brought her recently acquired key into use, unlocking the chain that tethered the bike to the pole (somehow, it wasn’t rusted at all).

“Was the bike lock really necessary?” Blake asked as Yang straightened back up, “I mean, with the shape this thing is in, it’s not like anyone’s going to steal it.”

Yang shrugged, not looking bothered in the least.

“Hey, everybody needs scrap metal sometimes,” she replied, an odd statement that Blake didn’t really feel like delving into. Instead, the pair moved to stand beside the bicycle – and it was then that a very prominent issue made itself clear.

“Seriously, how do we keep forgetting about the damn handcuffs?”

Yang laughed at Blake’s statement – yet again, they’d forgotten to take their chained limbs into account.

“Well, that will make this significantly harder,” Yang admitted, studying the bike as she tried to figure out a way to make their situation work, “how do you feel about riding on the handlebars?”

“And have a literal rust imprint on my rear? Thanks, but I just washed these pants. Try again.”

“Uh… how much faith do you have in my abilities of steering with one hand?”

“…Scratch that, let’s try the handlebars thing.”

It took a great deal of awkward manoeuvring, and several cases of near-dislocated shoulders, but they did find a way to sit that didn’t have either of them twisted like a human pretzel. Unfortunately, it was also probably the stupidest way to ride a bicycle ever created. Blake would be surprised if there wasn’t a video of them on the internet by the end of the night.

Blake was, in fact, perched on the handlebars – but she faced towards Yang, their opposite hands lining up. The blonde sat staring forwards, doing her utmost best not to stare at Blake’s chest, which was not exactly a small feat, seeing as they were literally right in front of her eye level. Fighting the blush off her cheeks – Blake finding no small amount of amusement at the blonde’s embarrassment – Yang glanced away as she spoke.

“Ready to give this a shot?” she asked, eyes flitting back and forth between Blake’s face, and the very interesting storefront across the street.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Blake replied, bracing herself for the attempt that was sure to end in disaster.

She wasn’t wrong.

Yang kicked off the curb, the pair moving forwards at a slow rate, gaining pace as she pedalled forwards, standing up slightly to see past Blake. The dark woman leaned to the side to give her a clearer view, and they moved forwards down the street, coming up to a nearby plaza, which held many people, despite the late hour. No small amount of looks were given to the oncoming pair, though people moved instinctively out of there way. It looked, for a brief moment, like the ride would actually turn out okay.

And then they hit the first pothole.

The impact jarred the entire bike, the metal frame creaking in protest, and the sudden force through Blake forwards – directly into Yang. The blonde’s face lit up like a stop sign, and Blake pulled away as quickly as she could – neither in their embarrassment registering the commentary from the red haired individual across the street (“My, my, dinner and show!”).

Muttering rapid apologies to each other, Blake resumed her perch on the handle bars, Yang continuing her pace – then they hit another pothole. And a third. And fourth.

“Would you – _ow” –_  fifth – “avoid the potholes?”

“I can’t exactly see them!” Yang protested, underscoring her statement as they hit yet _another_ one, and Blake felt the bottom of her ribcage reintroduce itself to her stomach.

“As soon as I get off this bike, I’m suing the government for using our taxes for anything but filling potholes.”

Yang’s amused snort was half cut off by another sudden drop.

“Well, if you would like to not have a free concussion by the end of this ride,” the blonde suggested, “can you try to look over your shoulder and see if you can help me avoid the damn potholes?”

Blake complied, twisting as much as she could, viewing the road obscured from Yang’s view.

“Head to the right,” she said, “alright, left – no wait, right again.”

This continued for a minute or so, Blake watching the road, Yang staying focused on keeping them upright. That was what really sealed their fate. At an odd, sudden sense of impending doom, Blake glanced up – and immediately realized the problem.

“Yang,” she said flatly, the blonde herself muttering angrily about poor road maintenance.

“Seriously, how does this road even have so many potholes? There’s not a lot of traffic.”

“Yang, slow down.”

The blonde didn’t comply, instead caught up in her little tirade.

“What, is there some jackass with a jackhammer who comes along here and smashes holes in the road for fun?”

“Yang, I–”

“Hey, wait. ‘Jackass with a jackhammer.’ That would make an _awesome_ band name.”

“YANG! HILL!”

The warning came too late. The blonde’s head snapped up at Blake’s cry just as gravity took hold of the pair, and their speed greatly increased, accelerating them forwards towards the stop sign waiting below. Yang immediately clamped her grip on the brakes – and then Blake’s earlier suspicions were confirmed, giving her a prospective talent as a fortune teller, assuming she made it out of this alive.

The brakes were shot, having rusted out a long time ago. There was no way to slow down – though Yang tried, her heels scraping against the pavement in a useless effort – and they shot down the hill faster and faster, coming ever closer to the stop sign at the bottom.

People swarmed in the street below – idly, in the part of her brain that wasn’t consumed by the fear of oncoming death, Blake remembered hearing something about a street festival that evening – and they sped towards the crowd like a bullet, a torpedo destined for destruction.

“GET OUT OF THE WAY!”

Yang’s cry alerted the people below, the reaction scattering them like dandelion seeds on the wind – parents pulled children from the path of danger, elderly people walkered their way out of peril, teenagers immediately pulled out their phones to begin recording.

At a speed neither woman would attempt on a bike with _working_ brakes, Yang and Blake had given up on actual words as they reached the intersection, instead screaming in fear for their lives. They were nothing but a blur of black and blonde, passerby viewing nothing but a streak with added sound effects as they raced past.

With screams to raise the dead – who they might very well count amongst, in the next minute or so – Blake and Yang hurtled through the intersection, blessedly not taking anyone out as they shot past, hair trailing behind them like flags. In less than a second they were past the crowds, now heading into a residential street, leaving behind them nothing but a stunned audience, and the lingering sound of shrieking. The red-haired individual caught it all on camera.

“YANG! SLOW DOWN!”

“I CAN’T!”

They screamed at one another as the street turned, the bike protesting both the high speeds and the sudden turn – by some miracle, Yang managed to pull them around the bend, their speed lessening slightly with the action. Through sheer willpower and an impressive display of tenacity, they continued doing so, the bike slowly losing speed with each turn, until they were travelling slower than before. Still far too fast for comfort, but no longer feeling like their skin was departing from their faces, so that was a start.

Then the final obstacle came into sight with the last rounded corner, and Blake immediately began to yell as the obvious dead end quickly came up on them, nothing but concrete curbs and metal guardrails awaiting directly them.

“THE COUCH, YANG! AIM FOR THE COUCH!”

The blonde did so, yanking the heavy handlebars slightly to the side towards the abandoned red furniture at the end of the road in a last, desperate attempt at self preservation. The bike hit the curb, and launched both of them over and off the handlebars, directly into the couch – the entire furniture piece slammed backwards with the sheer force, the two women propelled into the fabric screaming slightly.

By some amount of luck, and no small amount of years taken off their life from the ride, the couch didn’t tip over, instead tilting back into its original resting position, albeit about a foot farther back from the curb. The sudden lurch nearly threw the pair into the road, but they stayed on, lying splayed out on the red furniture.

They stayed that way for one minute, then five, and almost ten, taking an understandable length of time to get over their near death experience. The pair took deep, shuddering breaths, the last of the adrenaline fading from their veins, words still beyond them. After a good period of blessing their good fortune, and thanking every deity available for not letting them fall to the reaper, Yang finally spoke.

“Well, that was a thing.”

Blake let out a half-laugh, half-groan – in retrospect, the situation was rather funny, but they weren’t quite in retrospect yet, and her laughter came from her near lack of sanity.

“I’m going to feel that tomorrow,” Yang continued, wincing as she moved slightly.

“You’re telling me,” Blake retorted, and it was then that Yang took in their position.

The force of their sudden ejection from the bike had thrown them both bodily into the couch, Yang falling down onto Blake as the furniture had uprighted itself after. She was splayed out across the dark haired woman – Blake duly noted that she wasn’t the _lightest_ partner ever – blonde hair sprawling across their forms and the fabric below.

More importantly, however, was the way they’d landed – while Blake was below the blonde, her left arm was overtop of Yang, stretching across her chest, pulled there by the handcuffs (Yang marvelled over the fact that neither of them had any injuries from said metal tethers). Their position, though accidental, brought on a very, _very_ frustrating realization.

Blake could have ridden behind Yang the entire way, with her left arm stretched over the blonde’s shoulder, providing enough length that Yang could still steer with both hands.

“You’re telling me we could have ridden that entire way _without_ the near death experience?”

Blake couldn’t help it, the situation beyond any other reaction. She laughed, the sound breathy and mixed with small groans of pain. Yang swore loudly, dragging a hand down her face in exasperation and disbelief. Blake’s laughter petered out, and they lay there in silence, their muscles aching in protest, though the shared body heat soothed them slightly.

“Want to get up?” Yang said at last, moving her head enough to look towards Blake, who had shifted slightly out from under her, so that they were half lying side by side.

“Not really,” Blake replied after a moment of contemplation, “actually, scratch that. Not at _all._ ”

“Good, because I honestly don’t think my legs are going to support me right now.”

“Aww, are someone’s knees shaking?”

“You’re one to talk, I can literally feel your entire legs trembling.”

“Stop feeling my trembling, that’s creepy.”

“I can’t help it, they’re right underneath me!”

The pair broke into soft laughter, half hysterical. It faded out, and after a slight pause, Blake spoke again.

“Hey, Yang?”

“Mmm,” the blonde hummed in reply.

“Someone’s probably going to come out and see who crashed into their couch soon.”

“Mmm.”

“You don’t care, do you?”

“Mmm.”

“Well, to be fair, they did leave it out on the curb.”

“Mmm.”

Silent fell for a brief second, until:

“Hey, Yang?”

“Mmm?”

“Never again.”

“… Mmm.”

* * *

 

As it turned out, Blake had been right. There were three videos of them uploaded within the hour.


	9. Bring on the Heat

Ruby’s fork clattered onto her plate, the noise ringing throughout the quiet restaurant. The redhead woman swallowed with a great deal of effort, then let out her breath in a wheezy groan, slumping back into the cushioned seat. Beside her, Weiss finished chewing the last of her meal, swallowing it down an already burning throat, tears coming to her eyes as it made its way to her stomach.

Yet another two shot glasses of milk slid towards them – they’d lost count of the number several courses ago, Ren dutifully returning to the kitchen to refill the tiny glasses with each passing round. At this point, milk fought the heat about as well as a feather chopped down a tree, but Ruby and Weiss were hoping for a miracle in the form of the placebo effect. It didn’t actually arrive, but that didn’t stop Ruby from throwing back the contents of her glass, Weiss sipping at her own, wincing as the cool liquid met her burning taste buds.

Ruby pushed her glass away from her, drained of all but a few last dairy drops, her breathing sounding pained.

“You know that book ‘a song of fire and ice,’ or whatever?” she asked, silver eyes half shut in her recuperation from the agony of spicy food.

Weiss nodded, not quite ready to speak, her tongue unable to do anything but lie limply in an act of self pity.

“Well, they should rewrite it for us,” Ruby continued, eyes shutting fully as she slid down further in her seat, “except they should change the name to ‘a song of fire and fire.’ And death. Also, pain.”

“I get it, Ruby,” Weiss wheezed, seeing the redhead light up with even more suggestions.

The pair fell into silence, the sound of their pained breathing filling the space around them. After a minute or so, when she felt that her bones were no longer made of ghost peppers, Weiss sat up fully, staring at the man who had stood at attention through their entire meal.

“There,” she growled, pushing her plate towards him with an tone of finality, “Plate number five… finished.”

Ren smiled at her feeble attempts towards anger, taking the plate from her. He grabbed Ruby’s as well, raising an eyebrow at the empty dish, slightly impressed by the pair before him. Yang had once told him that Ruby couldn’t handle heat well at all, despite the legacy of tolerance that ran through her father’s lineage. Still, Ruby he could see having completed the challenge – the one who he was really surprised by was Weiss, who Neptune had described as ‘redder than a prostitute’s underwear’ when faced with the slightest bit of spice.

Both, however, had proved their doubters wrong. With a little bit of praying, a lot of effort, and an immeasurable amount of sound effects that would make religious parents cry if they heard them emanating from a closed bedroom door, Ruby and Weiss had finished the challenge.

It wasn’t that they had a lot to finish – the servings were small, small plates with one or two items stacked upon them, Ren noting that they had a long night ahead of them and wouldn’t be able to do it on such full stomachs. To make up for the small portions, however, the spice was steadily growing in its heat with each plate. Ren wasn’t sure just how hot the food was – he was well used to the high temperatures, but it was safe to say that neither Ruby nor Weiss were frequent customers of spicy foods, hence their reactions to them.

By that point, they’d garnered the attention of the few patrons still in the restaurant – some of them had been watching from the start, whereas others had caught on partway through the plates, drawn to the spectacle by the sheer amount of suffering the girls looked like they were going through. No one was commenting, and Ren doubted that either of the women had noticed, but every so often people glanced towards the coloured pair, even going so far as to quietly cheer as they finished their course.

With the final round of the meal, a couple of patrons were grinning wide, pointing and speaking softly amongst themselves. Ruby and Weiss, however, took no notice of this, the both of them instead half comatose – partially from a strong case of itis, partially from the late hour (it had taken them a while to make their way through each dish), and partially from the fact that their iq had had several points burnt away.

Ruby groaned loudly once more, her fingers scrabbling against the table as she pulled herself upright, dragging herself into a sitting position. Weiss took one look at her companion, before she made a noise of amusement, trying to keep down her giggles. Ruby’s upper lip was patterned with milk once more, pooling by the corners of her mouth (Weiss didn’t know how she’d achieved it with a shot glass, but she wasn’t about to ask). The redhead herself raised an eyebrow in question over Weiss’s reaction – the white haired woman pointed a finger to her lip, smiling at the sight.

Ruby reacted in the most childish – and, in some ways, predictable – way ever, immediately going crosseyed in an attempt to identify what Weiss was pointing at. When the crossed eyes found nothing, Ruby frowned in bewilderment, and with the action felt the drink dripping under her nose.

The redhead grinned slightly, embarrassed by how long it had taken her to notice her recent facial acquisition – she moved to lick away the milk, but in doing so scraped the top of her tongue against her teeth. Her face immediately contorted to one of discomfort, the sensitive taste buds crying out in retaliation as they met the rough edges of her teeth.

“Bad idea, bad idea!” Ruby hissed as she pulled her tongue back inside her mouth, Weiss wincing in sympathy at the sight – her own mouth was also recovering from its recent trip through hell.

As Ruby attempted to nurse the pain from her scorched taste buds, Weiss got over her sympathy for the redhead, instead reaching to snag the nearby napkins on the table.

“Lean closer,” she commanded, beckoning with a thin, pale finger. Ruby, confused but trusting, obeyed. She didn’t move fast enough for the white haired woman’s approval, however – as the redhead slowly tilted herself to the side, Weiss sighed in exasperation, reaching out and gently taking hold of Ruby’s chin.

She tugged the redhead towards her, Ruby blushing slightly from their sudden close proximity – not that she’d ever admit it, instead attributing it to the heat – and dabbed at the woman’s upper lip with the napkins, scowling slightly as she did so.

Ruby didn’t dare to pull away, instead waiting out the sudden grooming, the corners of her mouth twitching in reaction to the coarse, unfamiliar texture of the napkin. After several seconds of Weiss’s careful ministrations, Ruby spoke aloud.

“Uh, Weish?” she began, her words slightly garbled from the hand that held her chin in place, “Are you done ye–ACK.”

The hand had tightened as she spoke, cutting off her last word with a firm grim.

“Hold still,” Weiss commanded, bright blue eyes narrowed in concentration as she dabbed away the last of the drops, “Almost got it… There! Done!”

Satisfied with her work, Weiss dropped her hand, releasing Ruby’s chin. She tossed the used napkin onto the table, turning back to find Ruby in the same close position as before.

“You can move away now, Ruby.”

The redhead blinked, then reacted quickly, jerking back as she flushed in embarrassment.

“Oh, um, right! Sorry,” she said awkwardly, raising her free hand to scratch at the back of her neck. Weiss quirked an eyebrow at her reaction, but said nothing in response.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Both women whirled at the sound of Ren’s voice, turning to find the man standing beside their table, watching the pair with a vague expression of amusement. He said nothing more, hiding his smile as the two in front of him blushed simultaneously, caught in a situation that wasn’t actually embarrassing in the least, but was framed as such by his inquisition.

“Er, just cleaning!” Ruby replied, an awkward smile coming across her face, “Weiss was just helping me clean myself.”

Black and white eyebrows shot up in unison at the phrase, Ruby’s face lighting up to match her namesake as she realized what she’d said.

“N-not like that!” she stammered, her words tumbling from her mouth in her panic, almost too quick to catch, “I just meant because of the milk – she was cleaning it off my face, because it got all over…”

Ren was sure that if his eyebrows went any higher, they would recede into his hairline. Ruby’s words trailed off, the redhead realizing that she was only digging her grave even further. Beside her, Weiss was doing her best to match the shade of red that painted Ruby’s cheeks.

There was silence for a moment, Ruby staring at Ren, words unable to cover up her fumble. Then, slowly, she dragged her arms up, resting her elbows on the table and plunking her head down into her hands.

“I give up,” she stated, her blush still very noticeable through the gaps between her fingers, “Just kill me now.”

Weiss said nothing, words failing her as well – she simply stared at the redhead, before her gaze drifted back towards Ren, waiting for the man’s reaction. He stared at them for a few moments, before he shook his head, finding the words to reply to the awkward tension that stretched between them all.

“Anyways,” he began, choosing to bypass the situation entirely, instead just moving on to the next topic, “I actually came here to congratulate you.”

Weiss blinked; Ruby raised her head slightly, silver eyes peering over the tops of outstretched fingers – it appeared that both women had forgotten the end goal of their challenge several rounds ago. Ren cleared his throat, raising a finger as he continued on.

“I came to tell you,” he said, “that as of that last meal, you officially cleared the task.”

Ruby stared at him, head now fully out of her hands.

“You couldn’t have told us that _before_ I accidentally talked about Weiss’s milk?!”

Weiss blushed furiously at that, grabbing the discarded napkin and doing her best to beat Ruby in retribution for the statement, the redhead yelping and apologizing as she tried to put distance between herself and the white haired woman. The handcuffs stopped her before she could get very far. Ren waited out the quarrel, Weiss eventually dropping the napkin back to the table, the pair turning to look at him again. He waited a brief moment before he continued on.

“That meal was your final course,” he said, completely ignoring Ruby’s indignant question and Weiss’s furious reaction, the two of whom looked almost offended by his action, “and I must congratulate you both on having successfully making it through nearly all of the spiciest foods that the Hidden Dragon has to offer.”

A brief pause. Then:

“ _Nearly all?”_

Ren cleared his throat again, shuffling his feet slightly as he avoided Weiss’s piercing gaze, the blue pupils doing their best to stare a hole directly through him and into the wallpaper behind.

“Well, we always save the best for last,” he explained simply, “and there is one possible dish remaining, so…”

“So that’s the spiciest dish you’ve got?” Ruby clarified, looking at Ren with a mixture of expectation and resignation (it looked as though her soul had departed at the recent news).

Ren nodded, the redhead’s question being her own answer. Both women groaned, Weiss closing her eyes in irritation, Ruby tilting her head back in displeasure.

“But you said we were dooooone!” Ruby complained, her tone and phrasing making her sound a great deal of years younger than she actually was. Weiss opened her eyes to shoot her partner a disbelieving look at the reaction.

“Would you like some more milk?” the white haired woman responded before Ren had a chance to, “Or maybe we could even find you some juice. Although really, I think we’re up far past your bedtime.”

True to her childish responses repertoire, Ruby responded in the most juvenile way possible – she stuck out her tongue. Weiss rolled her eyes at the action, shaking her head slightly as she turned back towards Ren.

“She does have a point though, despite the five year old’s phrasing of it,” Weiss continued, directing her words towards the magenta-streaked man, “You did say we were done. What changed?”

Ren didn’t reply aloud, instead reaching into his sleeve and pulling out a familiar card – the words he’d first read to them when they’d entered and been issued the initial challenge. Weiss’s eyes skimmed the text on the paper, groaning a moment later and copying her partner’s posture as she slumped back against the booth.

“Of course,” the white haired woman concluded, “the second challenge.”

Ren nodded, putting the card away, noting the look of bewilderment that passed across Ruby’s face, followed by an expression of recognition, then understanding, then absolute fear.

“That’s optional, isn’t it?” she blurted out, unable to hide the worry in her tone.

Ren nodded as he answered.

“If you wish to keep the handcuffs as they are, you do not need to attempt the challenge. But I imagine that you will find it only increasingly harder to deal with as the night progresses, if you do choose that option.”

Weiss groaned at that – he was right. If this was the first of the challenges, and possibly the easiest, then they were in for a great deal of trouble if she couldn’t properly use her dominant hand. Ruby glanced to her partner, then back towards Ren, her brow furrowing in thought.

“That doesn’t really fix the problem, though,” she said, catching the quiet man’s attention, “after all, one of us is going to have our dominant hand chained up either way.”

Ren nodded, shrugging slightly in admittance to the faulty logic.

“That is true,” he acknowledged, “but you do get to choose who loses their dominant hand – and you’ll probably find that one of you fares with your right hand better than the other.”

Ruby narrowed her eyes at the last part, squinting in suspicion at Ren.

“You know me too well,” she declared, drawing an amused smile from the man and a confused expression from the woman beside her.

“What?”

Ruby turned to Weiss at the woman’s inquiry, tilting her head slightly and shrugging as she explained.

“I’m left-handed,” she said, “but I can use my right pretty well.”

“You’re ambidextrous?” Weiss asked, her brow furrowing over the information.

“Ambi what now?”

“It means you can use both hands equally,” Ren supplied, smiling at Ruby’s look of puzzlement.

“Oh! Well, I wouldn’t really say equally…” Ruby tapped her chin in thought before continuing, “but I did learn to use my right hand as much as I used my left, because I always needed both hands to do my work well, and I couldn’t have shaky hands.”

There was a moment of silence, before Weiss broke it.

“That is ambidextrous, Ruby.”

The redhead scowled, trying to make a show of crossing her arms, before the handcuffs clinked in reminder that she couldn’t complete the action. Ren shook his head, smiling at the sight.

“That sounds like it solves your problem, then,” he stated, “if you switch the hands that are cuffed together, then Weiss can use her left hand freely, and Ruby can make do with her right.”

Ruby and Weiss exchanged a look, a silent agreement made through their eye contact. Having made their decision, the pair turned back to Ren, Weiss sighing before she spoke.

“Fine, we’ll do it,” the white haired woman declared, her voice sounding resigned, “although, what exactly do we have to do?”

Ren grinned his widest yet at their acceptance of the challenge, folding his hands into his sleeves as he answered the question.

“One of you,” he explained, “will need to finish off our spiciest dish – a traditional broth with noodles and beef.”

Ruby’s brow furrowed at this.

“That doesn’t sound too threatening,” she commented, “I mean, that sounds pretty standard.”

“We though that about the innocent looking rice balls, remember?” Weiss muttered in reply, “And those turned out to hold Satan’s spawn inside of them.”

Ruby hummed in understanding and agreement, glancing back up to Ren and waiting for him to continue. Ren, who had been enjoying the exchange, continued without missing a beat.

“It isn’t a particularly large dish,” he clarified, “but it is the spiciest meal we have to offer.”

He glanced towards Ruby as he said one last sentence.

“This is the one dish that not even Nora could finish.”

Ruby gaped at that news, the freckled ginger always having seemed immune to anything hot. To hear that not even the Valkyrie could finish the dish all but sealed their fate as doomed women.

Weiss, however, caught none of the connotation, wondering who Nora was and why her name had caused Ruby to try and catch flies in her mouth once more. Perhaps she needed a change in flavour.

Weiss turned to Ruby, raising an eyebrow at the woman as she closed her mouth, still trying to fully accept the death statement they’d been given.

“Still willing to try it?” she asked, Ruby blinking in surprise and looking back towards Weiss, before her mouth set into a firm line and she nodded in resolve.

“We’re in this together,” she answered, determination blazing in her eyes, a fire that was only matched by the food that had passed through their mouths over the course of the past hour.

“Actually,” Ren interrupted, pulling their attention back to him, “only one of you can finish the dish. You can’t eat it together.”

“What?” Ruby cried, all traces of her former bravado gone in the blink of an eye. Weiss only groaned, resisting the urge to drag her hand down her face (the last time she’d done that, she had effectively spread hot pepper across her eyes, which had been less than enjoyable, to say the least).

“Perfect,” Weiss replied, before she turned to Ruby, “which one of us is going to sacrifice what’s left of our taste buds in the name of freedom?”

Ruby frowned, contemplating briefly on the matter.

“Well, I can’t even taste my saliva anymore,” the redhead commented, “so I don’t think I have much to lose. Bring on the heat!”

“You can taste your saliva in the first place?” Weiss inquired, looking rather confused.

“You can’t?” Ruby replied, now looking worried and bewildered.

Weiss decided just to not venture into that topic, instead rolling her eyes and responding to the earlier offer.

“Well, if you’re up for it,” she stated, “then I’d be more than happy to let you take this one on.”

“How very generous of you, Weiss.”

The woman in question glared at Ruby over the redhead’s sarcastic comment, but any retort she might have had was cut off by the sound of Ren clearing his throat. Both women turned to look at him; the man didn’t meet either of their eyes, instead finding a nearby lantern suddenly very interesting. Weiss caught the conclusion first.

“It’s not that easy, is it?”

Ren shook his head, still looking away. Weiss threw her hands up in exasperation, drawing curious looks from the other patrons around them.

“Of course!” the white haired woman proclaimed, “It could never be that simple. How foolish of me to expect otherwise!”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Ruby mumbled, Weiss sending her a venomous glare in response.

“I’m afraid that the person who is gaining their dominant hand must be the one to finish the dish,” Ren explained, sounding genuinely sorrowful for their situation, “and that’s you, Weiss.”

When the glare swung to land on him, he raised his hands in defence, stating out a hurried phrase.

“Nora’s orders!”

Weiss really didn’t know anything about this ‘Nora,’ but she was quickly coming to the conclusion that she wouldn’t be a huge fan of the woman. Instead of commenting on that, however, Weiss only sighed heavily, before a thought came to mind.

“Wait, Ruby’s ambidextrous! That means she’s sort of getting her dominant hand back, so can’t we do it together?”

“Why yes, Ren, I’ll happily do this for the both of us, like Ruby offered so generously before!”

Weiss ignored Ruby’s muttered commentary, instead quirking an eyebrow at Ren, waiting for his answer. The man with the magenta streak shook his head, wincing slightly at the blue glare sent in reply.

“I’m afraid it can only be you, Weiss,” Ren answered, “but if it’s any consolation, I will try and make sure it’s at least a small serving.”

Weiss sighed in defeat, waving a hand towards him in resignation.

“If I must,” she muttered, Ren smiling sympathetically at her acceptance of the task.

He nodded to the pair, taking a step back from the table.

“I’ll go have the cooks prepare your meal,” he said, “Weiss, you prepare yourself.”

With that, he withdrew, leaving the pair to their own devices. Had either woman taken notice of the patrons around them, they might have caught on to the rapid whispering going on – the customers closest had overheard the conversation, and were now delightfully spreading it around the restaurant, news of the upcoming challenge piquing interest.

But neither Weiss nor Ruby caught onto it, instead sitting in silence for a minute or two, lost in thought. The stillness was broken when Weiss turned towards Ruby, glancing at the redhead with an expression of worry.

“Are you really upset that I didn’t offer to do it for the both of us?”

Ruby whirled to face her at the question, brow furrowed in bewilderment. At the look of unease on the white haired woman’s face, Ruby’s expression changed to one of surprise, then of reassurance.

“No, no!” Ruby replied hurriedly, “I was only joking, Weiss. Really. I’m not upset!”

Weiss blinked, having been genuinely concerned that she’d offended the redhead. She turned back towards the table, maintaining a staring contest with the crumpled napkin there. Sensing her discomfort, Ruby kept talking, her voice quiet but upbeat.

“I only offered because I didn’t want you to have to do it,” she explained, drawing her partner’s curious glance, “after all, I already got you into this situation, so I didn’t want you to have to do even more.”

Weiss looked up at her in surprise, Ruby still continuing on, unaware of her partner’s gaze.

“I was just kidding about the whole offering thing. It would have been easier if we could do it together, so I’m actually glad you asked Ren if we could. Sucks that he can’t allow it, though.”

Ruby turned to look at Weiss, giving her a supportive smile.

“But hopefully it won’t be too bad! After all, we’ve been through some pretty bad stuff already. How much worse could it be?”

Weiss returned the smile tentatively, her eyes crinkling with the motion.

“I suppose you’re right,” Weiss replied, Ruby’s grin widening with the answer, “but really, now I wish I’d savoured those earlier rounds a little more. They seemed so tame compared to the last couple.”

Ruby hummed in agreement, taking a moment before she replied.

“Well, if you really want a break from the super spicy stuff, your ‘leftovers’ are waiting for you on the other side of the booth.”

The crumpled up napkin became a sudden projectile, finding its mark as it bounced off of Ruby’s forehead. Retaliation, however, was cut off by the sound of several approaching pairs of footsteps – Ren was coming towards them, a small steaming bowl balanced on a tray in his hands, several cooks following behind him.

“That was fast,” Weiss remarked as they drew near their table, Ren placing the bowl of broth down in front of the white themed woman. He nodded in acknowledgment of the truth of the statement, jerking a thumb in the direction of the cooks, who had gathered behind him, looks of anticipation on their faces.

“It’s a very rare occasion to have someone order this,” Ren explained, “so when I told them you’d accepted the challenge, they dropped their other orders to make this one as quickly as they could. It doesn’t really take too long in the first place, either.”

Weiss nodded in understanding, before she glanced over to Ruby, who hadn’t yet said anything. The redhead, however, had appeared to not hear any of their conversation, instead staring wide-eyed at Weiss’s bowl. She followed Ruby’s gaze to the small bowl below, feeling her own eyes widening at the sight within it.

The broth had dark bits of beef and golden noodles floating in it, sparse along the surface of the liquid. That, however, was not the terrifying part. What did induce fear in the viewer’s heart was the broth itself – it was not a thin, golden liquid, as Weiss was used to. The liquid was a bright, vibrant red, flecks of pepper floating throughout it, so imbued with spice that it was no longer a transparent liquid, but an opaque one.

In short, it looked like death in a bowl.

Weiss stared at it for a good moment – she wasn’t the only one, nearby customers craning their necks around and over the tops of the surrounding booths to examine the bowl for themselves. Ruby shook herself from her brief shock, looking towards her partner, cringing in sympathy for the woman and silently thanking Nora for accidentally sparing her of the meal. Ruby would count herself among the generous, but even this was beyond her level of compassion.

Weiss got over her own moment of disbelief, looking away from the sight of death and back to Ren, who had been watching her reaction in amusement. People had been ordering the broth for years, boasting of an ‘unbeatable heat tolerance,’ or even just dared by friends – but all of them had the same look on their face when the meal was placed down before them: the unmistakable expression of ‘oh, _shit_.’

Weiss was no different, though at least she hadn’t ordered the dish in a fit of prideful boasting. She also hid her stunned expression well, recovering her composure as much as she could as she turned back to Ren, scowling at the gathering of cooks behind him.

“Is the peanut gallery really necessary?” she asked darkly, pointedly staring at the cooks. One of them leaned towards Ren, whispering something into the magenta-streaked man’s ear. Weiss didn’t catch it – the words sounded foreign to her – but Ruby, Ren, and the other cooks did, laughing at the remark.

Bewildered and a little bit offended, Weiss whirled to face Ruby, her eyes silently demanding an explanation. Ruby held up her hands in surrender, eyebrows lifting as well.

“I’m not translating that,” she stated quickly, holding her breath as Weiss held her gaze for a good three seconds, then releasing it as Weiss did the same. The white haired woman turned back to Ren, quirking an eyebrow in silent inquiry.

“He wished you, ah… good luck,” Ren replied, clearly lying. Weiss’s eye twitched, but she resignedly accepted the fact that no one was going to translate the comment for her.

“They haven’t seen anyone try to finish this since Nora,” Ren continued, “so they would like to stay and watch, if that’s alright with you.”

“Fine,” Weiss sighed, after a moment of contemplating on it, “it’s not like I have anything else to lose.”

“That’s the spirit!” a cook called, before he shrank slightly under the gaze Weiss sent his way. The woman turned back to her death bowl, the liquid so viscous that there wasn’t even a reflection in it. Weiss picked up the spoon that rested beside her, casting it an apprehensive look at it before she took a deep breath, visibly steeling herself, plunged it into the broth, and lifted it to her mouth.

The reaction was immediate.

She coughed, reminiscent of the first round, dropping the spoon with a splash to clap both hands over her mouth. She swallowed the broth as best she could, her face reddening to a shade comparable to Ruby’s name, tears coming to the corners of her eyes as she fought to keep from crying in pain.

Ruby immediately shoved a shot glass of milk towards her, Weiss snagging it and raising it to drink from, once she had regained some semblance of composure. Weiss threw back the liquid, slamming down the glass and gasping, wincing as the air hit her burning taste buds, wide eyed in reaction.

Ruby gaped at her – she’d seen Weiss react to spicy food a lot in the last hour or so, but nothing like that. Looking back and forth between the bowl and the woman, ignoring the tittering cooks off to their side, she spoke aloud.

“What was _that_?” she asked, brows furrowed in confusion and worry. Weiss took a moment to reply, still trying to regain full control of her mouth.

“Why don’t,” the woman began, her words pausing as she swallowed before continuing, “you try some for yourself?”

Ruby glanced towards Ren, but when the man made no move to stop her, she reached out to grab the half submerged spoon from the bowl. She lifted it tentatively to her mouth, taking a much smaller sip than Weiss had – even that was enough for the woman.

She yelped, dropping the spoon the same way her partner had, forcing the noise around the broth in her mouth. She swallowed it, opening her mouth and fanning in with her hands in a useless attempt to quench the fires that had lit in her mouth. Someone passed her a glass of milk, which she eagerly chugged down. Gasping as she finished, she turned to face both Weiss and Ren.

“What is _in_ that?” she exclaimed, “Ugh, that made every other meal taste like they were at the spice level of freaking _mustard_.”

Ren chortled at the comment, Weiss shaking her head as she rolled her eyes.

“Let’s just say there’s a reason we don’t have this one on our menu,” Ren answered.

“Well, no _duh_ ,” Ruby shot back, “what would you even advertise this as? Palette _destroyer_?”

Weiss snorted at that, drawing the attention back towards her. The white haired woman was staring at the broth, which sat innocently before her. No one spoke at first, watching the woman in confusion as Weiss glared at the bowl, clearly contemplating on something. Ruby broke the silence first.

“Uh, Weiss?”

The woman in question blinked, raising her head to look at Ruby, then at the rest of the gathered crowd, who stared back at her. Ren lifted an eyebrow, speaking next.

“Do you want to try again?”

Weiss nodded resolutely, glancing back down at the broth.

“I will finish this,” she stated firmly, “even if it kills me.”

“It just might,” Ruby added, which Weiss ignored completely, instead snapping her fingers at the nearest cook.

“You,” she commanded, “go get me milk. _Lots_ of it.”

He nodded, turning and racing off towards the kitchen. She turned to face Ren and the cooks, sending a general question their way.

“Ren,” she began, causing the man to jump slightly in surprise, “what specifically is the challenge?”

“Um…” Ren trailed off, pulling the card back from his sleeve, “It says ‘finishing the spiciest dish that the Hidden Dragon has to offer.’”

Weiss hummed in contemplation before she replied.

“So, with that logic, what part of this dish is the spiciest?”

“That would be the broth,” a cook replied before Ren had the chance to, “the beef and noodles aren’t flavoured with any spices; they’re just added to offset the heat, and actually make it easier to eat.”

Weiss hummed again.

“Then, would you say the challenge is completed if only the broth is finished?”

There was a brief moment as Ren and the cooks exchanged looks, holding a silent conversation in their eye contact. Ren turned back to Weiss, confusion plain on his face as he replied.

“I suppose… that would complete the challenge,” he said slowly, nodding.

Weiss hummed a final time, then took a deep breath and spoke one last time.

“Excellent.”

There was silence at that, the white haired woman not elaborating on her statement, Ruby and Ren sharing glances with the cooks and other patrons. After a moment, Ren broke the silence.

“…What are you planning?” he asked, glancing curiously between Weiss and the broth. Weiss did not reply, instead closing her eyes in concentration, clearly preparing herself for something. Her blush by now had faded away, her cheeks devoid of their earlier reddish hue.

By this point, the nearby patrons had given up with the pretence of watching subtly, instead coming up to stand behind and beside the cooks, or even propped up over the sides of the booth. Weiss took no notice of them, Ruby glancing at their audience in slight apprehension.

The cook returned shortly after with a tray laden with several shot glasses filled with milk, a bottle placed beside them, balancing the weight as he set it down in front of Ruby, beside Weiss. The white haired woman opened her eyes, nodding to him appreciation.

“Thank you,” she stated, before she turned her attention back to her bowl, reaching out and gripping both sides with her hands. Ruby’s arm was pulled along, but she let it hang limp, curious as to what Weiss was planning. With the action and the promise of a second attempt, several patrons around them – as well as a couple of cooks – had pulled out their phones, pointing them towards the white haired woman and setting them to record.

Ruby glanced around at them, then back to the bowl, and finally up to her partner.

“Weiss, you don’t have to do this,” she began, “really, it’s okay, we can find a way to work our way around it–”

“I’m a Schnee,” Weiss interrupted, glancing at Ruby with a set determination in her eyes, a fierce resolve deep within.

“And a Schnee never quits.”

With that, Weiss turned back to the bowl of broth, closing her eyes and taking one, final deep breath, before blue eyes popped back open and she slowly lifted the bowl to her lips, and drank.

And drank.

And _drank._

“Oh, my god.”

Ruby breathed out the exclamation, unable to form any other words at the sight. Weiss was essentially chugging down the broth, showing no reaction to the heat, showing no signs of slowing down – she drank it slowly but steadily, as though it were the same milk they’d been consuming throughout the meals.

Ren, the cooks, Ruby, and the patrons stared in absolute shock as she kept going, the restaurant completely devoid of sound aside from Weiss’s steady beat of swallowing – they could only watch as the broth level slowly lowered, noodles and broth left behind in the bottom of the bowl. Cameras captured the entire moment, recording the woman’s consistent chugging.

It continued on – Weiss drinking steadily, everyone around her stunned into shock – until she drank the last drop and dropped the bowl back down, the sound of it clattering against the table echoing in the restaurant. Still, no one said anything, words beyond the gathered audience – there was one second, two of dead stillness, everyone still trying to process what they’d just seen.

Then the restaurant burst into raucous applause, cheers and whoops sounding in the crowded space.

The cooks talked excitedly amongst themselves, Ren grinning the widest he had all night long. Ruby clapped in stunned amazement for her partner, patrons around them shaking Weiss’s shoulder in congratulations. The applause carried on for nearly a minute, slowing and fading away as they all realized a single fact – Weiss hadn’t moved since she’d put back down the bowl.

The last of the applause died out, the excited faces around the white haired woman now ones of worry, staring at the woman and waiting for a reaction. Ruby leaned forwards, looking at her partner’s face for some sign of an expression, before she spoke softly.

“… Weiss?”

The woman didn’t say in anything in return, but there was finally a reaction. A faint blush appeared on her face, spreading across the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheeks, a red that grew deeper with each passing moment. It reddened as it continued to spread across the expanse of her face – within a half a minute, the blush had spread across the entirety of her face, down her neck, and even staining the parts of her collarbone that were visible beneath her shirt.

And yet _still_ Weiss continued to grow even redder.

For a good minute and a half, Ruby and the rest could only watch as the woman turned a shade of red comparable to the paper lanterns that hung around them, sweat beginning to bead and drip down her face. When Weiss was at a range of red usually reserved for lobsters and tourists who had forgotten their sunscreen, the white haired woman forced out a single word, clearly audible in the silent restaurant.

“Milk.”

Ruby blinked, taking a moment to understand the meaning of the word – then she reacted immediately, yelping ‘oh, of course!’ as she shoved a shot glass of milk in Weiss’s direction, who instantly grabbed it and raised it to drink.

Ruby pushed another one her way when the first was empty; Weiss again drained it of its contents. This pattern continued for a several minutes, until Weiss finished the last of the seventh shot glass, dropping it to the table but not picking up the next one Ruby was holding out to her.

There was a brief moment of silence, Ruby and the rest waiting for Weiss to do something, _anything_. Then the white haired woman, closed her eyes, winced visibly, and spoke.

“ _Ow._ ”

That set them off again, the applause returning even louder than before, people clapping and cheering. The cooks sent frequent congratulations towards Weiss, talking amongst themselves about the incredible success. Their fellow patrons did the same, ending the recordings and giving Weiss hearty pats on the back. Ren smiled at the white haired woman, nodding to her in appreciation, unable to truly phrase how impressed he was. Ruby, for her part, stuck close to Weiss, holding the last glass of milk if it was required and giving her partner a wide, awestruck grin.

As the applause faded out for the second time that evening, the sound of a phone ringing cut through it, Ren pulling the device from his pocket. He glanced quickly at the screen, swiping a finger to answer the call and raising the phone to this ear.

“Agent Mulan,” he said simply, earning himself some raised eyebrows from Ruby and Weiss.

“DID WEISS JUST FINISH THE CHALLENGE?!”

Nora’s voice emanated loud and clear from the speaker, Ren instantly holding the phone a foot away from his ear as the freckled woman on the other end screeched her question. When the deafening exclamation was finished, he pulled it back to his ear, speaking calmly into the device.

“Yes, Nora, she did. And she can hear you, so you might want to keep the volume down.”

The loud voice quieted instantly, reduced to a tinny sound of speaking, but with none of the words distinguishable to either of the women. Ren held a short, quick conversation, replying with single word answers, the cooks heading back to the kitchen while still talking excitedly amongst themselves, the patrons returning to their own seats. The call ended and he locked his phone and put it away.

Weiss raised an eyebrow at him as she spoke in inquiry, her voice sounding slightly hoarse.

“Agent Mulan?”

Ren smirked at that, nodding slightly as he explained.

“Nora’s second condition for the night,” he said, “giving us all codenames.”

Ruby smiled; Weiss rolled her eyes.

“On another note, Weiss,” Ren continued, catching the woman’s attention, “Nora wants to have a competition against you with, and I quote, ‘the spiciest salsa on this side of the city.’”

Weiss blinked.

“That sounds… dangerous,” she said.

Ren only smirked again in reply, before he nodded to the pair.

“I must say,” he spoke evenly, “I’m amazed that you got through that. In fact, not just the broth, but all of the meals. I had been… ah, _informed_ that your tolerances of such things were not exactly high.”

“Who told you that?” Ruby demanded, looking ready to fight someone in order to defend her honour, “Was it Yang?”

When Ren nodded, she frowned, muttering away.

“She treats me like such a kid sometimes,” she growled, though her tone held no actual malice.

“To be fair, you’ve been drinking a great deal of milk,” Weiss reminded her.

“Out of shot glasses!” Ruby retorted, raising a finger to show the importance of the phrase, “And that’s an _adult_ thing to do.”

“Milk in shot glasses is not an ‘adult thing’ to do,” Weiss muttered under her breath, “and that term is not as interchangeable as you think it is.”

Ruby ignored her, suddenly realizing what she really should have commented on first.

“Hey, the milk was necessary! And you drank a lot of it, too!”

Ren watched the pair squabble in amusement, understanding with each passing interaction of the two the truth behind Neptune’s declaration of compatibility. He couldn’t help the words from slipping from his mouth.

“He was right…”

“What was that?”

Ren jolted at Weiss’s question, realizing he’d spoken out loud.

“Er…” Ren replied, quickly trying to come up with a cover for his mistake, “Jaune was right! He bet that you two would be able to finish the meals.”

“Jaune said that?” Ruby asked, her brow furrowed in puzzlement.

Ren nodded, making a mental note to inform Jaune of the lie he was now involved in, especially before either woman had the chance to ask him about it. Weiss looked lost in thought at Ren’s statement, but Ruby pulled her out of it by exclaiming loudly.

“See, he knew which side to bet on!”

Then she paused, realizing what she’d said.

“You guys are _betting_ on us?”

Ren chuckled at the incredulous stares the women sent his way.

“Possibly,” he replied, “but you’ll be happy to know you just won against the odds, so that’s something.”

“They really have that little faith in my tolerance?” Ruby asked, looking offended. Ren shrugged.

“Yes and no,” he clarified, “some people bet that you’d be able to finish all of the individual meals, because they only _taste_ spicy with your high sensitivity, but won’t actually really affect you otherwise. Some also thought you would only make it through a couple rounds before your mouth gave up, while some thought you wouldn’t even make it through one. Only Jaune bet on Weiss being able to finish the broth bowl, though, so you really tipped the scales there.”

Weiss frowned at that.

“Why did he bet specifically on me?”

There was silence, Ren realizing his slip up.

“Ah…”

A beat, before Ruby spoke, also having caught on to what his phrase meant.

“Ren.”

The man glanced at the pair, who stared straight back at him, their eyes showing that he wouldn’t be able to quietly slip his way out of this one (or ninja his way out, as Sun liked to put it). Ren sighed, accepting his fate.

“Only one of you _could_ do the broth bowl,” he explained reluctantly, “didn’t you figure that out?”

The pair glanced at their handcuffs in confusion – Ruby got it first, her eyes widening in realization before she looked back up at Ren.

“I already have my dominant hand,” she stated, “so I had no reason to have to drink the broth.”

Weiss realized it as she said it, looking at Ren with a cross between question and fury. He chuckled nervously, nodding in confirmation.

“You mean you _set me up_?”

Ren cringed at Weiss’s furious tone.

“Well, there was no guarantee you would accept the offer,” he said, “but you were the only one who was allowed to drink it.”

“But _why?_ ”

Weiss’s voice sounded breathy on her last word, exasperation and confusion colouring her tone. Ren winced in sympathy for Neptune, knowing what kind of fallout would come from his statement. Still, he wasn’t going to be the one who the funeral was held for, so he explained anyways.

“Neptune said that you turned red enough to match Pyrrha’s hair when you had spicy soup one time,” he stated, “so Nora wanted to see just how red you could get – I think they’ve been comparing the colour this entire time to her hair.”

“Pyrrha’s in on this, too?”

Surprisingly, the question came from Weiss – Ruby looked at her partner in revelation.

“You know Pyrrha too?” she asked, causing Weiss to turn towards her.

“Yes,” Weiss responded, and as she continued to speak, Ruby joined in unison.

“Her dog has lupus.”

Ren blinked at the shared friend, and strangely shared information, before both women turned back to face him.

“Pyrrha _is_ in on this, then?” Ruby asked, “Just how many people are involved in this?”

Ren smiled slightly, bringing a finger to his lips in the universal ‘ _shhh’_ gesture (somewhere else, Yang twitched).

“You weren’t supposed to know that yet,” he stated simply, “if anyone asks, I didn’t tell you.”

Weiss narrowed her eyes at him as Ruby lifted her hands, counting on her fingers.

“So if we’ve seen Neptune, and Ren, and Nora and Pyrrha are in on it it, then that leaves… no, wait, someone’s looking after Yang and her date, so…”

Weiss blinked as Ruby thought aloud, the redhead clearly caught up in her task of trying to uncover the members of their date’s taskforce. The white haired woman turned back to Ren, who lifted his eyebrows towards her inquisitive look.

“Well, if you set me up on this one,” she said, “then at least tell me Ruby’s the one set up for the next task.”

“Hey!”

Ren smiled at Weiss’s question and Ruby’s incensed response.

“I can’t disclose that information,” he replied, “but like I said, you definitely broke the odds on this one. I know Nora’s really impressed by your success.”

“I’m not sure if I particularly want to impress Nora…” Weiss trailed off, letting her words end there. The table fell into silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts for a minute or two.

Ruby eventually cleared her throat, lifting her cuffed hand and shaking it slightly, causing the chains to rattle as a reminder of their existence. Weiss blinked, then caught on to what the redhead was insinuating, whirling towards Ren. She didn’t need to say anything, however – the man had come to the same conclusion as her, already pulling a small key from the depths of his sleeves.

Ruby and Weiss both perked up at the sight of the key, the sight of their freedom – then their faces fell flat as Ren withdrew a second set of handcuffs from his sleeve.

“No way.”

“You’re kidding.”

Ren laughed, shaking his head, which prompted a pair of drawn out groans from the women across from him.

“Couldn’t have you running away because you’re free, now could we?” he asked, ignoring the pair of glares sent towards him, “Especially not after everything you’ve learned about one another in the past meal.”

“You mean like the fact that Weiss leaves behind some of her food in odd locations to save as leftovers?” Ruby asked. Weiss didn’t even react, the fight and fire gone from her ire.

Ren blinked over the information before he shook his head, moving forwards and holding out his hand. Weiss and Ruby shared a glance of apprehension, before they held out their free hands towards the man, which was an odd sight to anyone who didn’t know what was going on (which was most of the restaurant).

Ren latched the second set of handcuffs on their free hands, then leaned away – immediately the pair of woman stared up at him in surprise, dread on both of their faces. Ren smirked at their expressions, tapping a finger against his chin.

“How mean would it be,” he said, “to leave you like this?”

Both women gaped at him, words beyond them. Ren was the _last_ person they expected to do such a thing. The man let the silence hang between them for a second, before he chuckled sheepishly, and leaned forwards to unlock their first set of handcuffs.

“Sorry,” he explained, “Neptune told me to say that, and get a picture of your faces.”

“But you didn’t take a photo?” Ruby stated questioningly, looking at him in puzzlement. Ren only smirked, pointing over his shoulder – Weiss and Ruby followed his finger to a security camera mounted against the wall, both of them groaning in realization.

“How did you think Nora knew you finished the challenge?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow at the pair. Ruby shrugged in reply, then sighed happily as the first pair of handcuffs were pulled away, freeing up their aching wrists.

“Well, in any case,” Ren continued, placing the key and the unlatched handcuffs into his sleeve, “congratulations on completing your first task of the night, as well as the bonus challenge. Do you have any questions before I send you off on your next one?”

“Yes,” Ruby stated seriously, staring at Ren with a sombre gaze, “just how much stuff are you hiding in your sleeves?”

Weiss rolled her eyes, Ren continuing on as if she hadn’t asked the question.

“I’m just going to take that to mean ‘no, no questions,’” he stated, before he withdrew a different paper from the other sleeve and handed it to the pair. Weiss took it with her free hand, holding it between them. Ruby leaned in close to follow along as Weiss read the words on it aloud.

“Go to a place filled with songs, games, and dance – where at being a pro you won’t have a chance. Footwork and “follow-along” you’ll find there; try and impress the judges if you dare!”

There was silence, before Weiss spoke again.

“What.”

Ren only smiled, shaking his head as he took the empty bowl from in front of Weiss, backing away a bit and bowing slightly to the pair.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you with that one,” he explained, “but there is a ride out front waiting to take you there. Good luck, ladies, with the rest of your night.”

He paused, his eyes twinkling as he smiled again.

“And congratulations again, Weiss.”

With that, he was gone, his quiet footfalls lost in the ambience around them as he disappeared into the kitchen. Ruby and Weiss were left along once more, still side by side, arms stretched in front of them. They sat in silence for a moment, before Ruby sighed, and turned to her partner.

“Well… I guess we should get going, then? It’s not like we’re going to gain anything staying here.”

“Just… give me a moment,” Weiss replied, “I just finished ingesting what felt like lava. I don’t think I can move particularly quickly right now.”

Ruby both laughed and winced, torn between sympathy and amusement. She did as Weiss asked, though, and they sat for five minutes or so, people passing by to congratulate Weiss once more on their way out.

At last, Weiss sighed, and propped herself up fully, turning to Ruby.

“Ready to go?”

Ruby nodded, then cast a last glance at their table, which was covered in glasses of milk, some empty, some full.

“One last glass for the road?” she asked, jerking her head towards them. Weiss glanced at the shot glasses, smiling slightly at the comment.

“I think I’ve drank my quota of milk for the week,” she stated flatly, before she frowned as something occurred to her, “hang on, how much shots did you drink?”

Ruby shrugged.

“Quite a few, but not nearly as much as you in that last bit. I lost track of the actual number, though.”

Weiss kept frowning, catching on to their upcoming plight.

“That’s really going to come back around to bite us, isn’t it.”

Ruby froze, catching on to Weiss’s insinuations. She shrugged nervously, trying to smile in the face of what was sure to be a very, _very_ unfortunate situation.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it?” she said, trying to sound optimistic, and failing.

“More like we’ll burn that bridge,” Weiss muttered in reply, eliciting a snort from Ruby. She turned to glance at the redhead, raising an eyebrow at the troublesome grin on the woman’s face. Ruby let there be a pause before she spoke.

“You know what else will burn in the future?”

It took a moment for Weiss to catch on, but catch on she eventually did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No updates for this week, basically - the last couple of days have been rough, and I'm away on a trip with no internet until Sunday, so I'll be back with more chapters on Monday. See you then!


	10. What's New, Pussycat?

It took Yang and Blake a while to make their way to the club after that – the remaining distance was short, but the time it took them to get there was far longer. To start with, it took them a good seven minutes to get up off the couch; there wasn’t any set time for getting over a near-death experience, but Blake was willing to bet that ‘short’ wasn’t a common time measurement. As such, neither woman made any move to get up at first, instead allowing their souls plenty of time to return to their bodies, letting the warmth of their limbs soothe the aching muscles of one another.

Blake moved first, her fingers protesting as they began to fill with pins and needles under the blonde’s weight. Yang groaned at first, but rolled off of her partner as Blake continued to move beneath her, trying to worm her way out from underneath the woman. Eyes shut, Yang didn’t notice how close the edge of the couch was until she had rolled right off of it.

With no small amount of swearing, Yang was quickly acquainted with the ground, thumping heavily into the grass. Blake shot up in surprise as her handcuffed arm was pulled along with the blonde’s descent, the dark haired woman leaning over the edge of the couch to see the blonde sprawled out below, groaning in annoyance more than pain.

Blake couldn’t help it. She laughed.

One lilac eye popped open to glare at the giggling woman, her brow furrowing as her face scrunched up in exaggerated fury.

“You laughin’ at me, punk?” the blonde growled, Blake snickering at her irritated drawl, “Come on down here and fight me, then we’ll see who’s laughing.”

Blake snorted in lieu of a reply, leaning away from the edge of the couch and straightening up, wincing as her vertebrae reminded her that yes, they still existed. With a stretch that would put a cat to shame, Blake groaned slightly as her muscles realigned – down below, Yang blushed furiously at the noise – and pulled herself to her feet. Glancing at the couch revealed the indent her body had left, and glancing down to the ground revealed a red-faced blonde.

Raising an eyebrow at the woman’s blush only caused Yang to redden further, before she shook her head, willing away the hue staining her cheeks. Blake extended her cuffed hand a moment later, Yang grasping it and blinking in surprise as the dark haired woman pulled her easily to her feet. Finding herself reacquainted with solid ground beneath her feet, Yang glanced back and forth between Blake and the hands that were still clasped together.

“You pulled me to my feet!” she stammered, unable to fully form her thoughts into words.

Blake raised an eyebrow at the unexpected statement, letting go of Yang as her other hand perched itself on her hip.

“That’s surprising?” the dark haired woman asked, looking at Yang with a mixture of bemusement and curiosity.

“Well, yeah!” Yang responded, her reply quick, “Most people can’t do that on the first try, especially with only one arm. I weigh too much for it.”

The second dark eyebrow rose to join the first.

“Are you calling yourself fat? Because I can assure you, you are not fat.”

“What? Oh, no! I’m not fat, I’m just – _heavy_.”

Blake tilted her head inquisitively, prompting the blonde to explain further.

“I’m basically made of solid muscle,” Yang clarified, “so I’m not exactly light, even if I’m thin. Most people can’t pull me to my feet in one try like that, because I’m heavier than they expect.”

Blake hummed in understanding, before a mischievous grin passed onto her face and she addressed the blonde.

“So, you were expecting me to be weak?”

Yang’s face lit up like a stop sign again, clearly embarrassed by the accusation.

“N-no, I didn’t mean it like that! I just wasn’t expecting–”

Blake laughed, cutting off the blonde’s flustered rambling as she waved a dismissive hand.

“It’s fine, Yang,” she replied softly, “I know what you meant.”

Then she paused, looking thoughtful before continuing.

“But to satisfy your curiosity,” she said, grinning impishly, “my previous, ah… _line of work_ called for me to be strong enough to lift myself and other heavy objects.”

Yang waited for further explanation, particularly on the line of work bit, but none came. She blinked.

“Oh,” Yang answered lamely.

Blake simply smirked at her response, turning to look down at their previous form of transportation. The Rust-o-matic-2000 had collapsed onto its side after its forceful ejection of its passengers, lying flat in the road. It, surprisingly, had kept its shape even after having been slammed into a curb at a ridiculously high speed – Blake had half expected it to disintegrate into a cloud of rust on impact – and didn’t really look like it had just been through a life threatening experience.

Well, at least until Blake moved to upright it.

“Yang, I don’t think we’re going to be able to ride this any further.”

“Hmm?”

The blonde peered over her shoulder, distracted from her former task – checking her hair for split ends – and glanced towards the bike. Immediately, she realized what issue Blake was referring to; the front wheel, which had once resembled something of a circle, was now incredibly bent out of shape. Yang leaned forwards, peering at the wreck as she commented on it.

“It appears our bike is exploring the career path of a body contortionist.”

“No kidding. Perhaps we should consider entering it into the Cirque du Soleil.”

“As what, a metal pretzel? We’d have better luck trying to sell it off on the internet as a new kind of sex toy.”

Yang grinned brightly at the short glare Blake sent her way, the piercing amber gaze relaying her lack of amusement. Blake blinked as she glanced back towards the bike, scrutinizing it heavily.

“It looks like an infection just waiting to happen.”

Yang laughed heartily, planting a hand on her hip and shaking her head. Blake really was a girl after her heart when it came to a shared sense of humour.

“Well, infections aside,” Yang replied, “that bike’s no longer going to get us far.”

“You’re kidding,” Blake responded flatly, “I honestly thought you would have tried at least _once_ to ride it back up the street.”

“You got me there,” Yang giggled, shooting a quick finger pistol at her partner, “but seriously, I know a lost cause when I see one.”

“Really? Is that why you don’t look at mirrors anymore?”

“Blake! I’m hurt!”

“You, hurt?”

“Woman, you wound me!”

Blake shook her head at the blonde’s feigned shock, Yang having taken up an exaggerated position, her free hand placed on her chest as her mouth hung open in amplified offence. The pair stood in silence for a moment, both staring down at the wreck of a bicycle.

Blake reached out a tentative foot, nudging the frame with her toe – immediately, the bike gave a great shudder, before the entire gear assembly fell off. They stared at the now _completely_ wrecked bike, before Yang leaned towards Blake and stage whispered into her ear.

“Blake, you broke the bike!”

Blake scowled, lightly shoving the blonde as far away as the handcuffs would allow – she didn’t meet much resistance, Yang laughing airily at the woman’s reaction. As the blonde’s snickers faded out, Blake rolled her eyes, taking a step back and sitting heavily upon the red couch. Yang followed a moment later, albeit landing much more heavily than her counterpart had, the springs in the couch causing her to bounce slightly.

“Well,” Blake began after a moment of contemplative silence, “I guess riding there is out of the question. Ready to start walking?”

Yang groaned, flopping her head back against the cushions, blonde hair splaying out every which way.

“Fine,” she muttered, “but man, I wish we could get a taxi. Why does fare have to be so darn expensive?”

Blake shrugged, letting a momentary pause fall between them – as if on cue, the silence was shattered a second later. A loud blaring of horns cut through the air, startling Blake so much she nearly fell off of the couch – Yang fared better, slightly jumping at the noise before reaching into her pocket and yanking out her ringing phone.

Taking a second to read the name that had shown up on the display, she scowled, swiping to answer and lifting the phone to her ear.

“What do _you_ want?”

Sun’s donkey braying of laughter immediately echoed from the speaker, loud enough that Blake could clearly pick up on it and his following words.

“Hey, lovebirds! Don to the Donna, Beauty to the Beast? Just calling to check in and see how you’re doing. You two still alive?”

“No,” Yang replied flatly, “We died from our transportation, and we’re answering from the afterlife. Tell Neptune his fashion sense says hello.”

Sun’s laughter returned, mixed with the offended squawk of the blue-haired boy in question.

“Well, can’t argue with that logic,” Sun began, the sound of a smack echoing from the speaker immediately following his words, “but honestly, are you two okay? We heard you had quite the ‘wild ride.’”

A beat, then:

“Sun, do you have people _following_ us?”

“Um… No?”

Blake and Yang groaned in sync at the obvious lie.

“Great,” Blake muttered, “so it’s not just you two idiots who are involved in all this, then.”

“Nope!” Sun replied happily – Yang could picture the satisfied smirk on his face.

“Who else is involved?” Yang began, but before she could continue, Sun cut her off.

“Ohohoho!” he interrupted, “I can’t tell you that. It would ruin the surprise!”

Yang sighed, pressing two fingers to the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

“Excellent,” she spoke darkly, “glad to hear we have an audience for our night of embarrassment.”

“Oh, believe me – you’ve got a way larger audience than you think!”

At Sun’s unexpected comment, Blake and Yang looked up at one another, sharing a short conversation in their eye contact. A second later, Blake spoke flatly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“Sun. Explain, now.”

“Er…”

“ _Sun.”_

The monkey’s nervous chuckles emanated from the speaker, before his voice spoke nervously.

“Well… there may or may not be several videos on the internet of you that are going viral right now?”

There was a good ten seconds of silence, words coming to neither woman.

“Uh... you guys still there?”

“Yes,” Blake replied, “we’re just coming to terms with the news of our sudden internet fame.”

“Aw, hey, it’s not like this is new for you guys – Yang’s got a bunch of videos that have tons of hits online, and Blake, you’ve got your own brand of internet fame!”

“Do _not_ go there.”

Yang blinked in surprise, glancing at Blake – she hadn’t expected the harsh retort to come from the usually collected young woman. Blake was glaring at the phone, as though Sun could sense her expression from the other end of the line. Evidently, he hadn’t, as he kept on talking.

“Alright, alright,” the Faunus continued, “I won’t reveal all of your juicy secrets. You two can reveal them to one another later on – there’ll be plenty of opportunities for that later on. For now, though, focus on getting to your next task, eh?”

“We were attempting that,” Yang replied, “that’s what nearly killed us, if you remember.”

“Oh, I know!” Sun responded with far too much joy for the situation, “that’s actually why I was calling – my, um, _informants_ told me that you two nearly died in transportation, so I was calling to let you two know about something we forgot to mention earlier.”

There was a beat of silence, both women waiting for Sun to finish.

“Your taxi fare is free for the night.”

More silence.

“Guys?”

“We’re still here, Sun,” Blake returned, “we’re just silently contemplating the best way to hide your body.”

Sun’s braying laughter spilled from the speaker once more.

“Glad to hear it,” he replied, “but hey, now you know, right?”

“It would have been nice to know that a whole lot sooner,” Yang retorted, “especially _before_ we decided to ride a death trap through town. Any other possibly life-saving information you’re hiding from us?”

“Nothing you need to know right now,” Sun shot back cheekily, both women rolling their eyes in exasperation, “that’s all I was calling to let you know. So hey, go catch a taxi! Just make sure it’s one of the Adel ones. I’ll talk to you two later, yeah? Keep having fun!”

“I wouldn’t exactly qualify the night as ‘fun,’” Yang muttered, but the monkey Faunus had already hung up. Dropping the phone, she turned to look at Blake, who wore an expression of contemplation.

“Well, at least we no longer need to walk, right?” the blonde said, startling Blake from whatever thoughts she was lost in. The dark haired woman nodded before replying.

“That’s true,” Blake said, “though I’m wondering about the Adel bit. What kind of connections does Sun _have_?”

“Oh, that’s not Sun,” Yang explained, drawing a look of curiosity from her partner, “that’s just Coco.”

At Blake’s look of confusion, she elaborated.

“Coco Adel? Daughter of Senor Adel? Owner of the town’s taxi service?”

“No, no, I know who Coco is,” Blake clarified, “I’m just confused as to how _Sun_ knows her.”

“Neptune’s the one who knew her first, actually,” Yang answered, “they met through one of their rich kid things, and became pretty close. He introduced Coco and her own friends to our pack, so we’ve met them a couple of times. Coco’s got a penchant for mischief, so it’s not surprising that she’s caught up in all of this, now that I think about it.”

Blake hummed in understanding, before she moved to stand up, pushing herself off of the red furniture.

“Well, if even she’s involved in all of this,” the dark haired woman mused, “then I worry to even think about who else might be.”

Yang snorted, waving her free hand dismissively as she replied.

“Worrying about that won’t help us anyways,” she said, “if anything, we deal with the idiots as we come across them. Cross that bridge when you get to it, you know?”

Blake nodded in agreement as Yang stood up beside her, the blonde stretching languidly. The dark haired woman glanced up the hill they’d rocketed down, turning to face her partner a moment later.

“What do you say we go catch a taxi?”

Yang grinned, moving to being their walk up the street – almost immediately she tripped, feet tangled in the metal wreck in front of her. Blake grabbed hold of the blonde to keep her upright, and to keep them both from what would likely be a very painful landing – her one hand grasped the blonde’s bicep, the other stretching to grab hold of something soft. And very, very squishy.

The pair froze, taking a moment to react. Blake’s brain slowly comprehended exactly what her hand was holding; Yang slowly comprehended that yes, Blake was basically _copping a feel_. The blonde slowly looked up at Blake, finding a very, _very_ red faced woman looking down at her, amber eyes wide (later on, Blake would blush once more as she realized that she’d basically dipped Yang, the position they were in eerily reminiscent of her ‘bad adult fiction’).

There was a moment of silence, both of their faces red enough to challenge the hue of the couch beside them, neither sure of how exactly to break the awkwardness, neither letting go. Then, slowly but surely, a grin spread across Yang’s face, before she spoke.

“Shouldn’t you at least buy me dinner first?”

Blake’s reaction was immediate; she let go of the blonde – which yes, resulted in her hand being removed from Yang’s, ahem, _chest_ , but also meant that the blonde no longer had anything keeping her upright. With a startled yelp, Yang fell the remaining distance to the ground – it wasn’t high enough to actually cause injury, but that didn’t keep Yang from groaning in complaint as she met the ground.

“Blaaaaaake,” she moaned, cracking open a lilac eye to peer at the woman leaning over above her, noting with no small amount of delight that her face was still _very_ red, “how could you just let me go?”

Blake scowled, trying to diminish the red hue from her cheeks.

“Oh, you’re fine,” she muttered darkly, then squeaked in surprise as Yang suddenly latched herself to Blake’s leg, her handcuffed arm pulled along with the motion.

“Never let me go, Jack!” Yang cried dramatically, giggling as Blake tried to shake her off to no avail.

The dark haired woman sighed at the blonde’s childish antics, ceasing in her desperate attempts to escape Yang’s embrace in order to stare down at her.

“You can re-enact Titanic scenes later,” she said flatly, as though this were actually something that needed compromise, “for now, can we go flag down a taxi?”

Yang giggled, letting go of her partner. She pushed herself up with her free hand, her one arm flexing under her weight as she stood back up (Blake fervently watched the sight, though she would never admit to it). Back on her feet, she turned to face Blake, who quirked a dark eyebrow towards her.

“Ready to go?” the blonde asked, before Blake pointed down at the bike.

“What should we do about this?” the dark haired woman inquired, Yang looking thoughtful at the question. After a moment of brief contemplation, the blonde reached down and grabbed hold of the bicycle, dragging it to prop it up against the side of the couch. With a large hand gesture towards it, she spoke.

“The couch is out here to be taken, right? Might as well throw in a free bike with the deal, too.”

“I think generally when people leave things out for others, they don’t expect to have things _added_ to the pile,” Blake replied, but she made no move to change Yang’s solution.

The pair set off, making their way back up the residential street – it was a much longer walk than Blake anticipated, but then again, their time going down it was on a bike at a speed only cars should reach – eventually nearing the intersection they’d careened through earlier.

At Yang’s suggestion that they avoid the intersection, lest they get asked for autographs as a result of their internet fame (Blake wasn’t sure how common that was, but Yang assured her it had happened before), the pair took a side road to a different intersection, finding themselves near a line of waiting taxis.

Hopping into one had first held apprehensiveness over the truthfulness of the ‘free rides’ statement, but that quickly faded when the taxi driver recognized them both right off the bat, holding up a company-issued paper with their faces and names printed on it. Evidently, they were expected.

Blake realized that Yang hadn’t been joking earlier when she’d stated that it was ‘too far to walk, to short to taxi’ the distance, as the cab ride lasted for only five minutes, at the most. The ride was mostly filled with silence, aside from a bit of small talk regarding Yang’s new bruises, and Blake’s chastisement when the blonde tried to fit her upper body out the window to yell at someone she recognized.

But beyond those small interactions, the cab ride flew by, the two women finding themselves at their destination mere minutes later. The taxi pulled up to the curb, letting the pair emerge from the backseat – Yang had tried to call shotgun, before she remembered the handcuffs handicap – before it whisked itself away in a blur of taillights.

“I think that’s the first time I got out of a cab and wasn’t hassled about my fare,” Yang commented absentmindedly, before they turned to face the building they’d stopped in front of.

Bright, tacky neon lights assaulted Blake’s eyes, a loud, thrumming bass beat triggering her sense of hearing. There was a long line out front of the club, stretching along the closed storefronts, a large gathering of people waiting to be let into the busy bar. There wasn’t much to the club’s front; the solid brick wall was painted fully black, with only one thing adorning it: a large neon sign, broadcasting the name of the club.

“Junior’s?” Blake read aloud, casting a glance to the blonde at her side as she spoke. Yang didn’t reply, instead choosing to glare darkly at the building, clearly reliving a past event in her mind. Blake gave her a minute to muse on the past, before she shook her hand slightly, rattling the chains.

Yang blinked, drawn from her thoughts, looking to Blake in slight surprise.

“This is it?” the dark haired woman asked, tilting her head in the direction of the building.

“Yup,” Yang replied flatly, letting the ‘p’ pop as she finished the word.

“Junior’s?” Blake repeated, looking at the obnoxiously bright sign.

“Yup.”

“This is where you got kicked out?”

“… Yup.”

A paused.

“So, how’re we going to get in?”

At this, Yang blinked – it appeared she hadn’t really thought that out, either. Blake glanced at the line, then at the tall bouncer at the front of it – he didn’t look like someone they particularly wanted to cross.

“… Can we even get past that bouncer?”

Yang glanced at the sprawling line, her eyes travelling across the waiting clubees until they rested on the bouncer at the front. Immediately, recognition lit up in her eyes, igniting a look that Blake no longer full trusted, at least not after their near-death ride. It was the look of an idea.

Before Blake could ask ‘what are you planning and how much could I pay you to stop it,’ Yang’s face broke into a grin and the blonde set off towards the bouncer, tugging Blake gently along behind her.

“Hey, Mercury!” she called as they neared the man, the bouncer blinking at the sudden sound of his name. Gunmetal eyes latched onto them, a sly grin breaking onto his face as Yang waved enthusiastically.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said as they drew up to him, reaching up a hand to high five Yang, “what are you doing around here? I could have sworn Junior threw you out on your ass for good.”

“Yeah, but since when do I listen to men with patchy beards?” Yang replied with a wicked grin, dropping her hand from the high five. Mercury laughed, the sound hollow as he shook his head slightly.

“You’ve got balls, blondie,” he grinned, “probably more than half the goons in there have.”

“Yup, and I have to go on in there and prove it.”

A gray eyebrow rose at the comment, Mercury relaxing into a slouched stance as he regarded the blonde before him.

“You want to go in there,” he stated flatly, receiving a confirming nod, before he continued.

“Into the place filled with a ton of people who would love nothing more than a second chance to beat your blonde ass.”

“Thanks for making it sound like a kink, but yes.”

“Hey, you’re the one wearing the handcuffs. What you get up to in your spare time is none of my business, I’m just stating what I see.”

“Screw you, Mercury.”

“No, thank you, I’ve taken a vow of abstinence.”

Yang sighed in exasperation.

“Now I see why Emerald’s always complaining about you,” she muttered darkly.

“Hey, Emerald has her faults too. Did you know that last week she brought home books from the library, and none of them had pictures? None of them. Not one.”

“Yes, your life is so hard.”

“Glad you understand,” Mercury grinned, crossing his arms behind his back, “but seriously, you actually want into the club?”

Yang sighed, holding up her chained hand.

“Unfortunately, yes,” she replied, “my dingbat friends set us up on a date, and now the only way out of these is to go in there and do some stupid task.”

“Ooh, kinky.”

Yang swore under her breath, Mercury grinning like a fox, turning to Blake.

“More importantly, though,” he said, addressing the dark haired woman, “do _you_ understand what it means to go in there? What this blonde idiot got herself into?”

Blake blinked, shooting a quick glance to Yang, who was scowling at her boots.

“She… hasn’t explained the specifics, but yes,” Blake replied, “I know of the danger we’re getting in to.”

Mercury whistled, his eyebrows shooting high.

“Are you’re not trying to saw through your handcuffs to avoid getting in there? Damn, Yang, I’d say this one’s a keeper.”

Yang grumbled something unintelligible as Mercury leaned in towards Blake, raising one hand to hide his words as he pointed the other towards Yang.

“Make sure she explains the specifics to you,” he spoke, “that’s a story I never get tired of hearing.

“Alright, alright,” Yang muttered darkly, interrupting the pair, “Mercury, are you going to let us in or not?”

“Hmmm…” Mercury pretended to muse on that thought for a good three seconds, before he smiled cunningly, “alright, I don’t see why not.”

“Possible gang brawl isn’t a reason as to ‘why not?’”

Mercury waved his hand dismissively at Blake’s question.

“This job isn’t overly exciting,” he explained, “I could use a little action, and I’ll definitely get it if I send Blondie over here in there again. So, I don’t see why not!”

“Thanks, Merc,” Yang replied, “I owe you one for this.”

“Nah,” Mercury answered, “seriously, you’re providing me with entertainment. I should be thanking _you_.”

“Actually, how did you get stuck on door duty? Lost a bet?”

“Hardy-har. Yes. Don’t ask me any more questions about it.”

Yang snorted, lifting a blonde eyebrow.

“Well, this can’t be worse than that time Emerald made you wear only lingerie to the supermarket.”

“Hey, I have fantastic abs, so at least the women there got a free show out of it.”

Yang rolled her eyes, Mercury leaning backwards slightly to look throught the glass door that led into the club.

“Alright,” he said a moment later, “one of the red-glasses is standing nearby, so I can’t let you in yet. When the coast is clear, I’ll gesture for you to come in, alright?”

Yang and Blake both nodded, Mercury smiling slyly at them. He made a ‘shoo’ gesture with his hands, speaking quickly.

“Okay, go get out of sight. Last thing I want is for my night of entertainment to be spoiled because you two were found standing out in the open.”

Yang rolled her eyes but complied, moving with Blake to stand in the line, hidden by the other club-goers around them. They stood in silence for a brief moment, letting the ambience of the crowd soak in. Then Blake broke the silence.

“So?”

Yang cocked an eyebrow in confusion over the sudden phrase.

“So, what?” she inquired.

“So, what’s the story?” Blake clarified, “about you getting thrown out of this place?”

Yang sighed heavily, knowing that her time of dodging the question was up.

“Well, you see…”

The blonde trailed off for a moment, raising a hand to scratch the back of her neck as she figured out just how to explain the reasons for one’s destruction and banishment from a club.

“It’s a long story,” Yang began, “so I’ll summarize it for you.”

Blake narrowed her eyes but didn’t interrupt; Yang took it as a sign to continue.

“See, the guys in there have some pretty big egos. ‘Macho gang’ and whatnot. I came in here a few years ago with some friends, had a great night, sangrias and margaritas and what not – and _then_ one of my friends remarked loudly that I was pretty strong, and could beat anyone in an arm wrestling match.”

At the disbelieving glare Blake shot her way, Yang held up her hands defensively.

“Hey, she said it, not me! I was just, er, collateral damage. Anyways, because she said it so loudly, some of the guys around us heard – and, well, being a macho gang and all, they couldn’t let that challenge go ignored. I ended up facing off against every damn gang member in that place; beat them all.”

Blake blinked slowly before replying.

“So, how did that end up with you destroying the club?”

“Well…” Yang said, wincing slightly as she prepared for Blake’s inevitable reaction, “some of the guys got really upset that I was beating them; a couple convinced me of cheating, though you really can’t cheat in an arm wrestling match – and after a lot of shouting and stuff, a fight broke out.”

Yang shot a glance to the front of the line; Mercury was still standing there, looking inside periodically, waiting for the opportunity to call them in.

“And yeah, it pretty much escalated from there,” the blonde continued, “the gang guys fought with one another and the people in the club – and things really hit the fan when they punched out a leader of an opposing gang, which… kind of led to a turf war? Or at least a lot of drunken gang signs being thrown up which, honestly, kind of looked like sexual gestures more than anything else.”

“Do you associate hand gestures with sexual meanings often?” Blake asked sarcastically, earning herself a lilac glare.

“No, but thank you for asking,” Yang shot back, before she shook her head slightly and looked back at her partner, all traces of offence gone.

“To finish off the story, though, things got a bit too crazy when I jumped behind the bar for some cover. At that point everything was basically wrecked, and I realized that someone had set off a fire behind the bar – it was small and all, probably from some crook’s cigarette lighter or even just what they used to make the flaming shots, but…”

Blake finished for her.

“Alcohol and fire don’t mix.”

Yang nodded solemnly.

“Pretty much,” the blonde finished, “most people had fled the bar at that point, and those that weren’t were quick to run when I started yelling ‘fire,’ but even then we couldn’t do much about the flames. Junior’s a cheapass, so all of his fire extinguishers expired years ago; I’m pretty sure he pays off the inspector every year. Either way, we couldn’t put out the fire, the bar went up in flames, and…”

“The club was destroyed.”

Yang nodded at Blake’s declaration, shrugging slightly as she did so.

“I got banned from ever coming back, after that,” she explained, “all because of an arm wrestling match.”

Blake hummed in understanding, looking curiously at the blonde. Silence fell for a minute or so, until Blake broke it once more.

“Alright, what’s the _real_ story?”

Yang blinked, looking down at her partner.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Blake smirked, cocking an eyebrow at the blonde.

“I know you’re lying, Yang,” she said, her smirk growing at the look of poorly-concealed surprise and guilt on the woman’s face, “so how’d you _really_ get banned from Junior’s?”

Yang took a second to contemplate this change of events, blinking as her brain tried to deal with the fact her lie had been discovered.

“How… did you know?” the blonde asked lamely, after she’d had enough time to allow her brain to reboot and install updates.

Blake laughed mirthfully, finding no small amusement in the blonde’s perplexed expression.

“Your right eyebrow twitches whenever you’re lying,” Blake explained at a moment, watching as complete shock passed over Yang’s face.

“You picked up on that?” Yang asked in surprise, lilac eyes widening.

“… Yes?” Blake replied, “It’s not exactly hard to miss.”

“Ruby still hasn’t picked up on that,” Yang answered, still staring at Blake in astonishment. There was silence, as the dark haired woman mused on this point. Yang continued to speak.

“She’s my sister.”

More silence.

“She lived with me for _seventeen years_.”

Blake laughed again as Yang shook her head in disbelief, sighing loudly.

“Blake Belladonna,” she said seriously, “you are one perceptive woman.”

Blake grinned at that, then paused, an afterthought coming to her. She glanced up at the blonde, tilting her head slightly before she spoke.

“You are too, it seems,” Blake responded, prompting a look of confusion from the blonde, “I never told you my last name.”

Yang froze, silence falling between them before the blonde scratched at her freckles awkwardly and explained.

“Sun gave it away,” she explained, “and your bracelet helped me put it together.”

Blake blinked at that, glancing down at her free wrist, on which hung the simple, woven bracelet she’d had since childhood. The letters ‘B.B.’ were etched into the leather strap, but Blake couldn’t see how that had given Yang the name. Blake looked back up to Yang, quirking an eyebrow to prompt her to continue. Continue the blonde did.

“It’s what he said when he called us,” she explained, “‘Don to the Donna, Beauty to the Beast?’ That’s got nothing to do with me, so I figured it had to do with you.”

The blonde paused, pointing to her bracelet.

“Blake is Old Mistralian, right?” she asked, receiving a surprised but curious nod from the woman in question, “well, under that logic, ‘beauty’ would translate to ‘bella,’ and I already had the ‘donna’ from Sun. Since your bracelet says ‘B.B.’ and not ‘B.D.,’ I figured it was Belladonna.”

She rubbed the bridge of her nose as she finished.

“Of course, I could have gotten it wrong – it could have been Belladon, or even something completely different, but I figured it was worth the guess.”

Both of Blake’s eyebrows had risen at that point, surprised etched clear into the woman’s features. She didn’t want to admit that she had been underestimating her blonde compatriot, but it appeared that in some ways, she had – Yang was far, far more perceptive than Blake had expected of the woman.

But for all her perceptiveness, Yang was not a good liar – nor was she any good at subtly changing the subject.

“I’m impressed,” Blake commented, smirking slightly at the radiant grin that passed onto Yang’s face, “but did you really think you could change the subject that easily?”

The speed at which Yang’s smile fell caused Blake to laugh lightly.

“I hoped you would forget about that,” Yang muttered under her breath as Blake’s giggles faded out.

“Nice try, but no,” Blake answered, tilting her head as she spoke, “now, out with it. What did you really do to get banned from this place?”

Lilac eyes drifted up to meet amber.

“You really want to know?”

A dark eyebrow perked.

“I wouldn’t be asking so much if that were the case.”

Yang sighed heavily, drawing a hand through her hair to push back her bangs.

“Fine,” she said dejectedly, “but lean in. I hate telling this one too loud, because people always laugh at me when they hear it.”

Blake complied, Yang closing the small distance between the pair to whisper into her ear. The blonde spoke for a minute or so, quickly summarizing the story – when the words reached their end, Blake pulled away, looking at the blonde with a mixture of disbelief and shock. Yang looked back at her warily, uncertainty dancing in her eyes.

After a brief pause, Blake spoke.

“You’re telling me,” she began, Yang already cutting her off with the answer.

“Yup.”

Blake continued on anyways.

“That you got kicked out of this club.”

“Yup.”

“For playing twenty-one repeats of Tom Jones’ ‘ _What’s New Pussycat?’”_

Her volume increased at the end of the sentence, drawing the attention of those immediately around them.

“ _Yes_ ,” Yang hissed, shooting glances at the nearby club-goers before she paused, her brow furrowing as an afterthought occurred to her, “No, wait, only twenty repeats. I threw in a ‘It’s Not Unusual’ around the seventh play or so, just to shake things up.”

Blake could only stare at Yang in utter disbelief as she slowly took in the admittance, the blonde herself waiting for the inevitable reaction. She didn’t have to wait long.

Blake burst into uproarious laughter, Yang wincing as she did so, the sound bouncing off of the club’s front and around in the empty street. Several passerby glanced at the cackling woman, Yang desperately trying to quell Blake’s mirth.

“ _Shhhh!_ ” Yang hissed, trying to wave her hands in a placating manner at the dark haired woman, “I know it’s funny, but please, try to control yourself!”

“Y-you,” Blake forced out around snickers, “got kicked out of the club… because of _Tom Jones?_ ”

Yang scowled as Blake launched into another peel of laughter.

“See, this is why I stick to the arm-wrestling story,” the blonde said flatly, watching as Blake wiped a tear of mirth away from the corned of her eye. She regarded the dark haired woman, peering at her with great scrutiny.

“You done?” Yang asked, as Blake let out the last of her chuckles.

“Yeah, I think I am,” the woman replied, though the mere answer had her nearly launching back into another round of cackles, “but really, can you go over it again? I still can’t wrap my head around it.”

Yang sighed heavily in exasperation, but complied.

“It’s pretty much the same as the arm wrestling story,” she muttered, “just the way it started is different. There was still the flaming bar, the turf war – it just started because people were accusing one another of having put in all the songs to play in the first place. I put in the twenty one plays because I thought it’d be funny – and don’t get me wrong, it was _hilarious_ , but it also drove everyone inside insane.”

The blonde paused, thinking back on the memory.

“I think the best part was when the other song came on, and everyone thought it was over – then ‘What’s New Pussycat’ began again, and everyone _lost it_.”

She grinned, clearly reminiscing fondly.

“That moment was _fantastic_.”

Blake lifted an eyebrow at the blonde’s reminiscing.

“But the bar fight and everything else, was that quite as fantastic?”

Yang winced slightly at that.

“Not really,” she admitted, “but now you see why Mercury loves the story so much.”

“Yes, I can see why he does…” Blake mused, before she glanced back up to Yang, “I do have one question, though.”

Blonde eyebrows rose in intrigue.

“Shoot.”

“Was it worth it?”

Yang blinked at the unexpected question, before her face split into a wide grin.

“ _Absolutely_.”

Blake rolled her eyes, but any other commentary she might have had was cut off by the sudden call of a name.

“Yo, Yang! Coast is clear!”

“Finally,” Yang muttered, as the pair moved to meet Mercury at the door. The gray haired man regarded the pair as they came towards them, the smirk on his face revealing that he’d heard Blake’s earlier bouts of laughter.

“She told you, didn’t she?” he asked, receiving a grin and a nod from the woman in reply.

“Oh, she did,” Blake replied, “the real story, not the fake one.”

Mercury looked up at Yang in surprise over that, eyebrows risen.

“You managed to coax it out of her?” he remarked, “man, not a lot of people can do that. Yang, I think you’re whipped.”

Yang growled at the man, who chuckled and let the conversation go, instead moving to open the heavy glass door.

“Okay, here’s the thing,” he said as they moved to enter, barring their entry with his arm, “if anyone asks, I did not let you in there, alright?”

Yang rolled her eyes, but nodded, Blake doing the latter as well. Mercury grinned slyly at them at that, lowering his arm to let them pass through.

“Alright then,” he continued, “ladies, have fun in there. You… don’t let Yang anywhere near the jukebox. And Yang? Try not to set the bar on fire, this time.”

Yang scowled, moving through the door without comment, Blake tagging along behind her. Mercury winked at the pair as the door closed behind them, and they found themselves on the top of a stairway that led down towards darkness, with a faint pink glow visible below. The music volume had increased exponentially, and Blake could feel the bass thrumming in her bones, the steady beat pumped through the entire building.

Yang glanced at Blake, lilac finding amber in the gloom.

“You ready?” the blonde asked, Blake nodding resolutely in reply.

The pair descended, cautiously making their way down the stairs, keeping from losing their step in the dark. As they drew closer, the music growing ever louder, Blake nudged Yang’s shoulder with her own, speaking loudly so as to be heard.

“Do you know what we should be looking for?”

“Sort of,” Yang replied, just as loudly, “I’m guessing one of our idiotic friends is waiting here – and since the one place you can really sit and talk to someone is around the bar, our best bet is to look there first!”

Blake nodded, though she wasn’t sure that the blonde woman saw the action in the dark. Those worries were put out of her head in the next second, however, as they reached the bottom of the staircase and rounded the corner, the club below them.

Bright lights and loud music assaulted Blake’s eyes and ears, the woman wincing at the new atmosphere. People were everywhere within the club, dancing and grinding on the floor, gathered along the edges of the walls and in the neon light booths at the sides. Blake paused, unsure of where to go – but Yang already knew, tugging her gently along behind her, making her way through the throngs of people.

All of a sudden, Yang stopped; Blake bumped into her back at the sudden halt, muttering apologies, though Yang didn’t seem to notice them. The blonde had frozen in her tracks – Blake peered over her shoulder, seeing in front of them the bar that Yang had mentioned. Only one person sat there, no bartender in sight – a burly, tank top wearing brunette, staring pointedly towards the pair. He didn’t seem all that imposing to Blake, but Yang seemed to think otherwise – seeing the blonde’s reaction, the boy lifted a hand in welcome, waving the pair over.

“Cardin,” Yang growled, voice almost too quiet for Blake to catch in the noisy room. Blake glanced at her partner, then back to the boy – whatever had riled Yang up this much, especially when not even the prospect of returning to the club had rattled her so greatly, was nothing to be trifled with.

For a moment, Blake felt herself worry over whatever might be awaiting them – then her eyes fell upon a jukebox in the corner of the club, half obscured by a group of standing people, and Yang’s story leapt back into her head.

In the face of whatever terrified Yang, Blake couldn’t help but snicker.


	11. Nature's Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a warning for this chapter: unless you’d like to read about our favourite candy cane duo dealing with the sudden call of nature, I’d skip this one. You won’t miss too much, other than a case of possible second hand embarrassment!

Ruby and Weiss stumbled out of the Hidden Dragon, clutching their midsections tight, the full capacity of their stomachs rising in reminder with every movement. Shoulders bumping as they made their way out of the restaurant, they shot apologetic looks towards one another as they straightened upright. The door swung shut behind them, muffling the sound of excited conversation from within. The cooks were still rapidly rattling on about Weiss’s “success” – though Ruby didn’t know if turning red enough to challenge a lobster for dominance counted as such – and the other patrons were still sharing last minute meals, a couple feeling particularly brave and inspired by Weiss’s act of desperation, ordering hotter dishes than they usually did.

More congratulations had been sent their way as Ruby and Weiss had made for the door, using the booth edges as crutches in their escapades. They’d accepted them with small smiles and grimaces of acknowledgment, more focused on not groaning rather than keeping up appearances. Neither was in pain from the heat anymore – the last of it had faded away in their closing conversation with Ren – but rather were in slight discomfort from the amount of food and liquid that now resided within them. Ruby was a large eater, but not when it came to spicy foods; Weiss herself was petite, and though she often did stun people with the amount of food she could stomach, she still wasn’t used to such a meal.

And so, feeling the milk and broth slosh around inside her, Weiss groaned audibly at the front of the restaurant, drawing Ruby’s attention towards her.

“Never again,” Weiss mumbled, “I’m never eating anything remotely spicy again. It’s all salads and dinner mints from here on out.”

“Dinner mints can taste spicy,” Ruby mused, Weiss blinking in obvious confusion, “well, at least if you eat them after a really cold glass of water. It’s like ‘hello, iceberg that took down the titanic,’ all in your mouth at once.”

Weiss quirked an eyebrow.

“Doesn’t that happen if you drink cold water after brushing your teeth?”

Ruby shrugged.

“Yang says I have sensitive teeth,” the redhead explained, “but then again, Yang says I have sensitive feelings, and sensitive bones, and sensitive eyes, and-”

“I get the picture, Ruby,” Weiss interrupted, raising her free hand to press two fingers to her temple. Ruby caught the motion, brow furrowing in concern.

“Are you okay?” she asked, “Do you have a headache? Dad says my talking can do that sometimes.”

Weiss smiled in spite of her discomfort at the comment.

“It’s not you, Ruby,” she explained plainly, “I just get headaches if I drink too much.”

Silver eyes blinked at that.

“Doesn’t that happen to everyone? I mean, tequila _really_ takes a lot out of you. Usually feels like Nora’s going after your head with her warhammer.”

Rather than choosing to settle on the topic of why the clearly questionable insane redhead had a potentially _fatal_ weapon, Weiss rolled her eyes about the rest of the comment.

“Not from drinking alcohol, you dunce,” she said flatly, “Did you see me drink alcohol in there?”

She paused, white brows furrowing from an afterthought.

“Actually,” Weiss continued, “alcohol might have made that whole endeavour easier.”

She closed her eyes, shaking her head and the afterthought away.

“Anyways,” the white haired woman continued, “no, I don’t just get headaches from drinking too much alcohol. I get it from just drinking a lot of liquid in general. Say, for example, _a ridiculous amount of broth and milk_.”

“Oh!” Ruby exclaimed in realization, before she really caught on to Weiss’s words, “Ohhhhh…”

“Yes,” Weiss repeated flatly, “‘Ohhhh.’”

Ruby chuckled awkwardly, clearing her throat gently before continuing.

“Well… are you going to be okay?” the redhead asked tentatively, “Can I get you anything? Tylenol? Advil? Those horrible Haribo gummi bears that detox the living crap out of your system?”

Weiss raised an eyebrow at the last suggestion, blue eyes latching onto gunmetal ones.

“Haribo… gummi bears?” she repeated uncomprehendingly, blinking at the phrase. Ruby nodded sagely, as though it were well-known wisdom.

“They’re these terrible gummi bears,” she explained astutely, “that pretty much make you crap out everything that ever existed in your digestive system, if you eat more than five. Like, those pieces of gum that you swallowed less than seven years ago? Those are going to surface early. As well as whatever else you’ve eaten in the time since childhood.”

Weiss wrinkled her nose at the description, severely grossed out by the implications. Ruby continued on anyways, unaware of her disgust.

“Yang, Sun, and Neptune all tried them once, on one of Velvet’s famous dares,” she explained, “I used to complain about having to take care of Yang and her hangovers, buuuut… those all paled in comparison to the Haribo incident. Even that time she threw up on the vintage shower curtain.”

“Vintage… shower curtain,” Weiss repeated numbly, unable to really latch on fully to the information being presented in such detail. Ruby nodded in reply.

“The stain’s still there,” she finished sagely.

Weiss blinked, allowing herself a good ten seconds to take in the information, then immediately dispelled it from her mind and scoured her imagination with a great deal of soap. When she no longer had delightfully awful images staining her mental canvas, she focused her attention back upon her partner.

“Detoxing sugar-filled treats aside,” she answered, “I don’t need anything to help the headache, but thank you for offering. They generally go away within five minutes or so; they pass on quickly.”

Ruby made a noise of understanding, something caught between a hum and an “ahh,” sounding more like an initiation of her gag reflex.

“The gummi bears are actually sugar-free,” she inputted helpfully, “but I’m glad that you’ll be okay!”

Weiss nodded, not bothering to continue with their trivia round on laxative-laced candy. She glanced down the street, to where the road led out into a busy avenue, many cars racing by in spite of the time of night. Turning to Ruby, she found the redhead already looking at her in anticipation.

“Ren said our taxi fare was free, correct?”

Ruby nodded emphatically, speaking as she did so.

“Yup,” the redhead replied, “We just have make sure we catch an… Abel one?”

“Adel,” Weiss corrected mildly, “Coco is involved in this, I presume. Her father runs one of the largest taxi companies in Remnant. We’ve met one another on many occasions.”

“You’re friends with Coco Adel?” Ruby asked, eyebrows high, “I’ve met her once or twice, but I haven’t really talked to her much. I know Velvet, though, and she’s always around Coco.”

Weiss nodded, recognizing the rabbit Faunus’ name. She’d met the woman on more than one occasion, but hadn’t held much of a conversation with her before, though Velvet seemed amiable enough.

“Well, either way,” Weiss said simply, moving the conversation forwards, “it looks like as long as we catch one of Coco’s taxis, then we don’t need to worry about paying tonight. Do you know where we’re heading next?”

Ruby pulled out from her pocket the clue Ren had given them, Weiss noticing in slight distaste the way it was already crumpled from being in the redhead’s possession. Idly, in the part of Weiss’s brain that was fuelled by teenage drama and Mean Girls quotes, she wondered where Ruby’s organizational skills ranked on her list of tolerance.

“Ummm,” Ruby hummed, her brow scrunching up as she read over the paper, “there’s another map here!”

She held it out towards Weiss, revealing that yes, there was indeed another completely useless map scrawled onto the paper. The only map that might have been more inadequate than it would be one that showed all of Remnant on it, with a poorly placed dot saying “somewhere around here.” But seeing as how Weiss wasn’t sure if that map actually existed or not, she was set to believe that whoever was in charge of their clues had no possible future as a cartographer.

“How are we supposed to navigate our way with this?” Weiss asked haughtily, holding out a hand in gesture to the offensive drawing, “There isn’t even any sign of directions, so we have no way to orient ourselves.”

Ruby looked at her partner pensively.

“Weiss, do you happen to carry a compass with you?” she asked tentatively, curiosity bordering the edges of her words.

“I forgot mine in my other wallet,” Weiss replied easily, narrowing her eyes as she continued to study the clue. Ruby, understandably, had absolutely no idea if Weiss was joking or, as was more likely, being completely serious.

“Aha!” Weiss announced loudly a moment later, as Ruby was still pondering on whether or not her partner had yet heard of a thing called the ‘21st century,’ “I believe I’ve discovered a hint on this map. This street here – I think it reads ‘Haloid Avenue,’ if my eyes don’t deceive me. Either that or they do, and this map is not a map at all, but rather a written idea for a story called ‘Hamburger Adventures.’”

Ruby leaned in at that, glancing at the street Weiss’s manicured nail was pointing towards. She made a sound of recognition at the name, realizing where their map was trying to lead them to.

“No, you’re right, that is Haloid Avenue!” she confirmed, Weiss blinking at her statement.

“No, you’re right?” the white haired woman repeated incredulously.

“I think I know where this is trying to lead us,” Ruby continued on, ignoring Weiss’s disdain of her phrasing, “there’s a drinking arcade around here that we used to go to all the time.”

“A drinking arcade?” Weiss asked, noting that the two words together were both confusing and pointing to extraordinary shenanigans.

“It’s a really great place,” Ruby reassured her, “you pay a fee to get in for the night, but they have dishes of tokens for the arcade games everywhere, so you don’t have to worry about paying for that. And there’s a bar there too, which only adds to the fun – you have to pay for your drinks, though.”

“Sounds like a sane decision,” Weiss replied flatly, “but you think that that’s where we’re supposed to go?

Ruby nodded in reply, before she explained in further detail.

“The clue sounds like it’s either a club or the drinking arcade – and since ‘games’ is in it, I’m guessing the latter. Like I said, our group used to go there a lot, so it wouldn’t be surprising for them to pick it.”

Weiss raised an eyebrow at the last sentence.

“ _Used_ to go there?” she repeated, her tone inquisitive. Ruby winced, clearly not having wanted for Weiss to pick up on that detail.

“We didn’t get thrown out, for once,” she explained quickly, before Weiss could jump to conclusions, “We actually chose to leave!”

“From what I’ve gathered about your friends,” Weiss replied, “especially in regards to their dedication to this date,” she held up the handcuffs in example, “then getting them to choose to leave something must have taken one heck of an incentive.”

Ruby nodded.

“It… was because of another group,” she explained, “we had a lot of records on the machines and games there, until this one group suddenly came in and wiped them all out, even on the dance machine, which we only had tenth place in on the boards. We tried to reset the records a bunch of times, but they’d always boot us back out – eventually we just got tired, and decided to leave.”

Weiss frowned – the story seemed incomplete, and missing sound reasoning skills. Then again, Ruby’s friends did seem to think that handcuffs made a fail-proof date, so ‘sound reasoning skills’ probably weren’t in their repertoire of logical assets. Either way, after a moment of brief contemplation, Weiss decided not to pursue the issue.

“So this drinking arcade, then,” she continued, leaving behind Ruby’s insight the same way a steamroller leaves behind a flattened corpse, “that’s where you think they want us to go?”

Ruby half shrugged, half nodded – a gesture that was about as helpful as the map.

“I’ve got no other ideas,” she admitted, “and you don’t either, right? So we might as well go for this one.”

Weiss’s half-formed retort about the economical side of impulsive gestures died on her tongue with the remembrance that their taxi fare was free for the night, and was replaced by a sudden urge to go waste as much of Coco’s time as was possible, in revenge for their last shopping trip. She settled with simply nodding in reply to Ruby’s suggestion, tossing her head slightly towards the direction of the main street.

“Shall we, then?” she asked, Ruby nodding in reply, moving to leave.

They walked in a brief, but comfortable silence – the awkwardness that had permeated the air beforehand was now all but gone, swept away with the last of Weiss’s broth bowl. Some things were bound to make friends out of strangers – and while life changing events like car accidents, facing down in-laws, or knocking out a mountain troll à la Harry Potter weren’t exactly on Ruby’s history of completed events, ‘bonding over copious amounts of spicy foods’ came a close second.

In any case, the pair now walked together, comfortable at last with their strange, but slowly-becoming-welcomed evening arrangement. Along the way, Weiss’s headache departed from them as well, providing them with a relatively clean slate for the next challenge. In no time, they reached the main road, leaving behind them the red glow from the paper lanterns outside of Ren’s shop, taking with them full stomachs and memories they’d never be able to leave behind.

Unbeknownst to them, they would revisit those memories several times over the next hour, each time in a different way – but that wasn’t information available to them yet, so they didn’t even let the possibility cross their minds.

They quickly claimed a taxi of their own, Weiss marching up to the nearest Adel taxi she could find, leaping in the backseat, and loudly pronouncing her name and the expectation of free fare. It was immediately afterwards that Ruby quietly informed her she’d actually hopped into an Abel taxi, and immediately after that that they were asked to leave the taxi by a miffed but determinedly polite driver.

Shortly after _that_ , Weiss and Ruby found themselves in the back of a true Adel taxi, the driver having actually had a clue of what the pronunciation of their names meant. Promise fulfilled, neither girl worried about the cost, instead enjoying their ride in peace. Peace, at least, until a fact made itself suddenly clear to Ruby, and thoughts of enjoying the next hour went immediately out of her head.

Weiss noticed her change in demeanour just as they were arriving at the arcade, quirking a white eyebrow in confusion.

“What is wrong with you?” she demanded, staring pointedly at Ruby, who seemed unable to sit still.

“Oh, um, me?” Ruby replied far too quickly to seem natural, smiling falsely.

Weiss narrowed her eyes at the twitchy redhead.

“No, the other Ruby sitting in the backseat,” the white haired woman replied flatly, brows furrowed in irritation.

Ruby chuckled awkwardly, trying – and failing – to seem natural.

“Nothing, really,” she stated blandly, drawing herself another squint from her partner. Any other comments Weiss might have had, however, were cut off by the sudden stop of the taxi, and the gruff ‘we’re here’ that sounded from the driver. Opening the door and shuffling their way out – with no small amount of wincing at the sounds of their skin detaching from the vinyl seats – Ruby and Weiss found themselves in front of the arcade, bright lights on the storefront flashing away at them.

It was visibly crowded inside, people standing around by the windows, partially blocking their view to the inside, though the horrendous glow-in-the-dark carpet was still visible in places. Weiss internally scoffed at the sight, part of her genuinely curious, another part reminding her that she wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like that. Or, well, caught in handcuffs – but what was the difference, really. Her social status was going to be shown coffin designs either way.

With both determination and interest driving her forwards, Weiss took a step towards the building – only to feel her arm jerk back behind her, the chain on her wrist pulling taut with the motion.

She turned to find Ruby standing frozen behind her, looking incredibly guilty and somewhat like a deer caught in the headlights. Weiss peered at her partner, trying to find within gunmetal eyes the reason for the sudden reaction. When nothing came to light, she tilted her head, choosing to phrase her confusion aloud.

“Ruby?” she began, the redhead in question visibly reacting to her name, “What is it?”

“I, um…” Ruby’s words trailed off, the redhead herself suddenly unable to look Weiss in the eye, her gaze falling everywhere but the woman before her.

Weiss squinted at the woman, tapping her foot impatiently.

“Er, I uh…”

At Ruby’s second attempt at articulation proving to be a failure, Weiss threw her hands up in exasperation, only one actually making it into the air. The other, with the help of the chain, was reintroduced to the effects gravity. It did little to help Weiss’s current frame of mind.

“Would you just spit it out, whatever it is?”

Ruby swallowed at Weiss’s demanding words, shrinking inwards as she prepared to speak. After a moment of visibly steeling her resolve, Ruby met Weiss’s glare, and spoke aloud.

“I, uh… I have to pee.”

Weiss blinked. And blinked again. When a third time _still_ didn’t help her understand why this was such a dilemma for the redhead, she sighed and rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“Ruby,” she stated flatly, “there is absolutely nothing wrong with having to pee. In fact, with the amount of liquid you’ve drank tonight, I think I would be more concerned if you _didn’t_ have to.”

Ruby blinked, realizing that for all her serious and intellectual manner, Weiss had not yet picked up on a _very important fact_. Weiss, true to form, continued talking on.

“I suppose it’s an embarrassing thing to admit aloud,” the white haired woman continued, “but really, it’s understandable. Still, there is no reason to act like such a…”

Whatever thinly veiled insult Weiss might have had in mind trailed off, the woman’s brain finally tallying up all the known facts, with a little reminder from Ruby. Slowly, cautiously, in the same way that someone might walk past a spooked feral animal, Ruby raised her hand. The light caught the metal of the handcuffs, still very much chaining their hands together, the glint catching Weiss’s attention and filling in the last variable of the equation.

Ruby had to pee, and she was currently chained to Weiss. There was absolutely no way it was going to end well.

The pair stood in an abrupt silence, Weiss slowly coming to terms with the situation, Ruby slowly preparing for the inevitable fallout. And when it came, it came as one word.

“No.”

Ruby winced, having anticipated such an answer.

“But, Weiss–”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Weiss, I can’t exactly hold it off forever!”

“Can’t you at least hold it off for the evening?”

“You saw how much milk I drank! That’s not a possible feat for anyone on this planet.”

“Well… can’t you try really hard?”

“What, like willpower will magically placate my bladder? What do you think I have in my body, a fourth dimension where I can store my pee?”

“Don’t be vulgar!”

“Hey, you’re the one who suggested holding it back through sheer force of will.”

“That is _not_ what I meant, and you know it. I simply meant don’t _think_ about having to pee, and maybe then you won’t need to go so badly – don’t think about waterfalls, or Noah’s Arc, or–”

“ _Saying those things is only making it worse!”_

Weiss dropped the articulate side of the conversation, choosing instead to simply groan in reply. Ruby startled at the expression that briefly passed across her features – for a moment, it almost looked like Weiss was about to cry. Then, with an amount of resolve and stubbornness that war generals and absolute fools are generally blessed it, her expression changed to that of forced acceptance.

Blue eyes fastened onto grey, staring into them with repulse and resolve.

“So there is _no_ way for you to hold it in?” Weiss asked, her voice firm and, in some ways, defeated.

Ruby shook her head, believing words to only be more maddening in the current instance. Weiss sighed, looking up to the sky as though asking heaven for strength. When she stopped praying to the deities and looked back down at the level of the mortals who walked Remnant, her blue eyes were set with a mixture of acceptance and tenacity.

“Fine,” the white haired woman spat, clearly displeased with the situation in spite of her resignation to it, “we’ll just have to deal with it. Is there a bathroom inside the arcade?”

Ruby blinked in surprise, then nodded again.

Weiss made a noise of displeasure that sounded surprisingly like a chipmunk choking on an acorn, turning to regard the arcade before them. The glowing lights greeted her view, the neon colours far brighter than their future appeared to be. The white haired woman frowned in her contemplations, before moving towards the large glass window, tugging Ruby along behind her. The pair moved up to the pane, pressing hands and noses against the glass, the heat from their fingertips and breath fogging up the surface.

Several people started at the sight of two faces peering into the room, those nearest to the window blinking at the women pressed into the window. Ruby smiled sheepishly at those staring at them – which honestly only creeped them out more, considering the way her face was contorted against the transparent surface – while Weiss paid them no mind, instead intently scanning the room with cyan eyes. After several seconds of her silent searching, Weiss hissed audibly, muttering a phrase as she quickly pulled away from the window, sliding down to sit on the floor with her back to the glass.

Ruby followed her a moment after, a look of confusion and amusement splashed across her features. As the redhead joined her partner out of sight from those inside, Weiss glanced at Ruby, startling slightly at the expression the woman wore. There was a beat of silence, before Ruby spoke.

“Did you just say ‘for Pumpkin Pete’s sake?’”

Weiss chose to reply with a series of unintelligible mutters, frowning heavily as she looked away. It was all the answer that Ruby needed to burst into laughter, giggling at her partner’s choice of a replacement curse.

“You know, when most people want to swear without the actual bad word,” the redhead said when her giggles had subsided enough for her to speak normally, “they choose something that sounds like the curse word, not the name of a cereal cartoon character.”

“Well, not all of us are the same,” Weiss shot back, glaring at her partner.

“Yes,” Ruby replied easily, unperturbed by the glare, “some of us are strangely unique.”

At the look of disdain that passed over Weiss’s features, Ruby snickered again, before she continued with her words.

“Strange swear words aside,” the redhead said, glancing behind her at the arcade window, “what did you see in there that made you hide?”

“Fox,” Weiss said simply, staring at the pavement in front of her as though it had publicly insulted her fashion sense. Ruby blinked, not understanding in the least.

“You saw a wild animal?”

The exasperation in Weiss’s eye roll could almost be heard.

“He’s… a friend,” the white haired woman elaborated, struggling to phrase what she meant.

“You’re friends with a wild animal?”

The sound of Weiss’s free hand smacking her forehead was definitely audible.

“Fox is a live, human being,” Weiss hissed, clearly not amused by Ruby’s conclusions, “He’s one of Coco’s friends, so I’ve met him on several occasions.”

“Ohhh,” Ruby replied, her mouth forming the sound of her reply, before she paused and frowned in thought, “why is that a bad thing?”

“Well, if Coco’s involved in all of this,” Weiss explained flatly, “then it’s likely that Fox is, as well. I doubt he’s here out of coincidence.”

“So, he’s here to give us the next challenge,” Ruby stated, receiving a confirming nod from her partner in reply, “In that case, why are we hiding from him?”

“Fox is…” Weiss paused, her eyes glancing upwards as she searched her mental repertoire of adjectives to describe the man inside, “well, let’s just say he’s got a wicked streak to stretch from here to Atlas.”

Ruby winced, picking up on the woman’s insinuations.

“So he’ll want to see us suffer?”

Weiss shook her head, frowning slightly.

“He won’t make us suffer,” she explained further, “but he will tease us about the night, and _especially_ about you having to pee.”

Ruby frowned indignantly.

“Hey, it’s not _my_ fault that mother nature is calling.”

“That would be the milk, not mother nature, that is talking.”

“I know. It’s talking right now, telling me that I _really_ need to go.”

Weiss sighed audibly as she replied.

“And _I_ am telling _you_ ,” the white haired woman shot back, “that there is absolutely no way that Fox can find out that you really need to go, lest we be teased about it for the next seven years.”

Ruby scrunched up her nose.

“Weiss, you need some new friends,” she said flatly.

“And whose friends got us into this mess in the _first_ place?” Weiss shot back, quirking an eyebrow as she glared at the redhead.

Ruby frowned at that, the insinuations of her question unavoidable.

“Fine,” she replied, “let’s just say that both of our friends need adjustments when it comes to attitudes and decision making. Either way though, they mean well, and we’re stuck with them for now.”

Weiss hummed in agreement as Ruby continued on.

“So, if we don’t want to have Fox reminding us of our natural instincts after this, what do we do?”

Weiss pursed her lips in thought, before realization lit up her eyes.

“Fox won’t be alone in there,” she stated, “he’s always got someone with him for things like this, especially when the room is noisy.”

The white haired woman glanced behind her, trying to peer through the labyrinth of legs that stood behind the glass.

“Whoever is in there with him, as long as it’s one of my friends, will be less likely to notice you,” she continued, “stand up a little and tell me who’s standing around Fox.”

Ruby complied, Weiss squawking as the sudden upward movement pulled slightly on her arm. Silver eyes peered into the window, studying the faces for a brief moment until realization came to her.

“Uh, Weiss? What does Fox look like?”

An exasperated sigh came from below, followed by the answer.

“Reddish hair, darker skin. He’s probably wearing something sleeveless, so look for someone with a lot of scars on his shoulders.”

Weiss’s strangely apt description matched a man over in the corner, his back to the window as he spoke animatedly to the several people around him. Ruby squinted at Fox’s companions, relaying what she saw back to the woman down below.

“Okay, I think I found him,” the redhead said, “Um… he’s talking to a bunch of people right now… Well, there’s a person with a mohawk that kind of looks like a dying weed… a woman who looks suspiciously like my third grade teacher, and… a tree?”

Weiss, who had been getting progressively less amused with each passing description, blinked suddenly the last phrase.

“A tree?” she repeated blankly, hearing Ruby hum in confirmation.

“Yeah, there’s a really tall guy next to him wearing green. If whatever his current job is doesn’t work out, he can always pursue playing a tree in theatre for the rest of his life.”

Weiss frowned, scrambling to her feet.

“Let me see,” she demanded, nudging Ruby over slightly to get a better view inside. Cyan eyes found Fox easily, drifting up to examine the so-called “tree” beside him – Ruby hadn’t been lying. Instead of disbelief, or another one of Weiss’s go-to reactions, the white haired woman grinned suddenly, scaring the ever-loving crap out of Ruby.

“Uh, Weiss?” the redhead began meekly, “you kind of look like a psycho killer.”

“Yatsuhashi,” Weiss replied, not even sparing Ruby a glance. The redhead blinked in confusion.

“Is that what you want me to call you now? Because that’s kind of an uncommon name for a serial killer…”

Weiss raised an eyebrow at the sentence, suddenly catching on to Ruby’s commentary.

“No, you dolt,” she said exasperatedly, turning to face her befuddled partner, “that man in there is another one of Coco’s friends, Yatsuhashi.”

Ruby’s face of understanding earned her another eye roll.

“He’s quiet, and I’ve never spoken to him very much,” Weiss continued, glancing back inside at the man, “but I know for a fact that he isn’t nearly as troublesome as Fox. If anyone in there will help us, it’s Yatsuhashi.”

“So, what,” Ruby said, turning to look inside as well, “we just go in there, get Yatsuhashi on his own, and tell him I have to pee?”

Weiss grimaced at the thought.

“Preferably, you’ll say something a little more dignified,” she replied flatly, “but yes, that’s the general idea.”

Ruby hummed in understanding.

“So what’s our plan of attack? Will one of us cause a diversion so that the other can slip away and grab Yatsuhashi? Will we lure him to us with bread crumbs?”

Weiss stared at Ruby, no words coming to her for a brief moment.

“What is this, Hansel and Gretel?” she replied at last, disbelief colouring her tone, “And how would one of us slip away? We’re _handcuffed_ to one another.”

Ruby blinked.

“Oh. Right.”

Weiss sighed and rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to drag her free hand down her face.

“Well,” Ruby began again, looking pensive, “we could always–”

“No, no, stop talking,” Weiss interrupted, “no more suggestions from you.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re offering anything up!”

“That’s because I already know what we have to do, had you bothered to actually wait for me to reply when you asked me what to do.”

Disdainful cyan met sheepish silver.

“Continue?” Ruby said awkwardly, holding up a hand in gesture.

Weiss resisted the urge to shake her head, instead complying with the redhead’s request.

“Yatsuhashi’s close to Fox,” the white haired woman explained, “so we’ll have to be very careful in approaching him. When we get in there, don’t say my name – preferably, don’t say anything at all, but at the very least, _don’t say my name_.”

Ruby nodded, miming the action of zipping her lips, then throwing away the key. Unsurprisingly, she misjudged the distance of the window behind her, the knuckles on her moving hand bouncing loudly off the glass.

Ruby hissed in pain as they both ducked down, the nearby people around them whirling towards the source of the noise. Weiss glared at Ruby as they ignored the curious stares sent their way; the redhead smiled embarrassedly back.

“Don’t do that, either,” Weiss commanded, “hitting anything, I mean. If we can catch Yatsuhashi’s attention, and call him over towards us with gestures, I’m sure he’ll be able to help us out.”

Ruby frowned, an issue arising in her mind.

“But,” she interjected worriedly, “if we start waving our hands or something to catch Yatsuhashi’s attention, then won’t Fox see us too?”

Weiss shook her head.

“No,” she replied, “Fox is blind.”

At the sudden silence that met her explanation, she glanced to Ruby, finding the younger woman looking back at her in slight astonishment.

“What?” Weiss asked, her brow furrowing in bewilderment.

“ _Weiss_ ,” Ruby stated, sounding vaguely shocked, “I know you don’t want to deal with Fox’s trickster side, but that’s no reason to insult him _that_ much.”

Weiss’s eyebrows unfurrowed and rose, letting Ruby connect the dots on her own. It didn’t take the redhead long.

“Fox is actually blind, isn’t he.”

Weiss nodded in confirmation, smiling slightly as Ruby smacked her own forehead, having the good sense to look guilty.

“Blind as a bat,” Weiss elaborated, Ruby only looking more and more embarrassed, “And, like a bat, he has _exceptionally_ good hearing.”

“Which is why I can’t say your name aloud?”

“Or I yours,” Weiss agreed, nodding. Ruby pursed her lips in thought, before she grinned at her partner.

“Got it,” the redhead stated, “Ready to give this a go?”

Weiss sighed slightly, before she nodded reluctantly.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied, earning an enthusiastic smile in return.

“Good,” Ruby said as they rose back to their full heights, “because I’m going to be honest with you – I’m not sure how much longer I can hold back.”

The last words Weiss got out before they opened the arcade doors were “can you find a different way to phrase that?”, the sudden introduction of sound stopping the rest of the conversation in its tracks.

Whirrs, beeps, and loud music greeted them as the glass door swung open, as well as the curious stares of those who had seen them outside the front window, and had been wondering when exactly they would enter. Weiss took in the ambience cautiously, not quite as familiar with the noisy, lively atmosphere as Ruby was.

Slowly, they made their way towards the corner where Yatsuhashi and Fox resided, weaving their way slowly through the throngs of people before them. With mouthed apologies and a couple of shows of body contortion that would have circuses begging their name, the pair wound their way to the corner. Of course, before they could succeed in their valiant quest, whichever benevolent god had been smiling upon them thus far was suddenly knocked out by a far less compassionate one.

Ruby, who had been leading the way through the arcade, suddenly felt a tug on her arm, yanking her back a step. Whirling around, she found the source of the pull – some errant, drunk gamer had walked directly into the handcuff chain, unaware of it in their alcohol induced stupor. And, true to the legacy of alcoholic tendencies, said gamer could not find a solution to the problem, instead still trying to force their way through the metal chain.

Ruby hissed as her shoulder socket complained, unable to see Weiss for the body between them and the several others that were pressing in from the sides. For what was not the first time in the past week, Ruby cursed her height, and found herself wishing briefly that Weiss was a six foot tall goddess instead. Alas, the wish was not suddenly granted – which was a blessing in disguise for the woman’s clothing size – and Ruby found herself whispering her partner’s name.

“Wei–” she began, before the woman’s firm warning repeated itself in her head, and she saved herself in the best way she could think of, “–ss cream!”

No one around her appeared to notice the sudden statement of a frozen treat, aside from the white haired woman herself. The wayward drunkard had disentangled themselves the moment Ruby had changed her statement, leaving Weiss within perfect earshot.

And, judging by the look of complete unamusement that had passed onto her face, Weiss was not pleased with Ruby’s creativity.

With a nervous chuckle, Ruby took an unbidden step back, instinct screaming at her to get away from the predator about to strike. With the movement, and without looking behind her, the redhead felt herself trip, feet tangling up in an arcade game’s cord – and before she could do anything about it, Ruby toppled backwards.

Something solid stopped her fall, a firm but also soft wall keeping her from introducing the back of her head to the carpeted floor. Ruby slowly opened her eyes from their clenched anticipation, praying to every god she knew that she hadn’t fallen into a woman’s chest again. Turning around, she found herself face to face with green – nothing but green – and when her brain realized that she had to look elsewhere to figure out what it was, Ruby slowly looked up.

Yatsuhashi looked back down at her, a mixture of surprise and concern on his features. Ruby blinked, suddenly unsure of what to say – it was then that she felt Weiss brush up against her shoulder, her partner suddenly appearing at her side. The white haired woman put a finger to her lips, gesturing with her head towards another corner of the arcade, where less people were gathered.

Dark eyes glanced to the place Weiss had gestured, before Yatsuhashi nodded, reaching out a hand and giving Ruby a prod forwards. As the handcuffed pair moved in the direction of the corner, a voice suddenly sounded from behind them, causing both Weiss and Ruby to freeze in their tracks.

“Yo, Yatsu! Where ya going?”

White and red winced, waiting for the axe to fall, waiting to somehow be noticed.

“Washroom,” Yatsuhashi replied easily, both Weiss and Ruby blinking in surprise at his cover.

“Oh, alright!” came the loud reply, “But hurry back – Weiss and her date’ll be here any minute now, if Ren got the times right.”

Weiss frowned at the mention of their past sentinel, and the indication of the communication between their friends. Yatsuhashi, however, only nodded before continuing to move forwards, Weiss and Ruby doing the same.

It was easier to move through the crowds when you had a green giant behind you, as Ruby quickly discovered. It didn’t take the trio long to reach the other corner, which was fortunately close to the washroom door.

Yatsuhashi stopped beside them, folding his arms together as he waited for Weiss to explain. The noisy atmosphere had faded slightly, providing the means for a normal conversation – and Ruby, not wanting to embarrass Weiss by making her state their awkward situation, decided to explain it on her own.

“I really have to pee.”

On second thought, perhaps letting Weiss field that one would have been the better decision.

Yatsuhashi blinked in surprise, Weiss silently raising her free hand to her face. The three stood in silence for a brief moment, each in their own way dealing with the sudden explanation – Ruby’s face was turning progressively redder, Weiss was doing her very best to fuse her hand to her face, and Yatsuhashi was silently observing their reactions.

Before Ruby could explain (and condemn) herself further, Yatsuhashi saved them both from requiring a redemption arc from their embarrassment, instead reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, silver key. Silver and cyan eyes widened at the sight, relief and anticipation sparking in their pupils.

But before the gentle giant moved to unlock either of them, he raised his other hand, pointing with two fingers at the both of them, then at the washroom door with one. Weiss frowned as Ruby turned to follow the finger, glancing at the door before she looked back at Yatsuhashi and spoke.

“Er… you want both of us to go in there?”

Yatsuhashi nodded, causing Weiss to frown further and protest.

“Can’t she go, while I stay and wait out front?”

A dark, thick eyebrow was quirked at her response.

“I promise not to run away,” Weiss followed up, earning herself a small smile and shake of head from the man before them.

“Fox will notice you,” he explained calmly, “he’ll eventually smell your perfume.”

Weiss mumbled a real curse word under her breath this time at the mention of the man’s extraordinary senses. Ruby was both shocked and slightly disappointed that another cereal character hadn’t had a mention.

“So we both have to go in together, then? No questions asked?” Ruby clarified, wide silver eyes looking puzzled.

Yatsuhashi nodded again, prompting the redhead to look over at Weiss, smiling awkwardly in an attempt at what she hoped was reassuring (it wasn’t).

“At least we won’t be chained together?” she said, her voice dripping with thin optimism.

Weiss shook her head, clearly unamused by the turn of events. For his credit, Yatsuhashi bowed his head slightly, muttering an apology.

“I’m sorry,” he explained, “but it’s the only way to avoid Fox finding out.”

Weiss ran her free hand down her face, clearly coming to terms with their arrangement. When the gesture was finished, she thrust her chained arm out towards the man, pulling Ruby’s along with it.

“Fine,” she said flatly, “free us.”

Yatsuhashi smiled and complied, unlocking Ruby’s half. As the redhead rubbed her wrist in relief, Weiss stared at her still-very-much-cuffed hand, shock clear on her face as she looked back up at Yatsuhashi.

“Why didn’t you unlock _my_ cuff?” she demanded, sounding highly offended.

Ruby could have sworn that Yatsuhashi was smirking. The man didn’t reply with words, instead choosing to use gestures once more. With a single finger, he pointed at Ruby, then to Weiss, and finally jerked his thumb behind him. Weiss blinked; Ruby caught on to the meaning immediately.

“Of the two of us, Weiss is the more likely one to run away?”

Now Yatsuhashi was definitely smiling. Weiss, on the other hand, was not. She instead looked distinctly displeased, and offended over the fact that Yatsuhashi thought such a thing. Ruby, however, completely agreed with him.

“He’s got you there, Weiss,” Ruby said with a grin, the expression growing wider as Weiss reacted with her best impression of a parrot.

Ignoring the white-haired woman’s squawk of indignation, Ruby turned back to Yatsuhashi, grinning wide at him.

“Thanks,” she said honestly, the man smiling in return.

“Don’t thank me yet,” the green giant replied, “the cuffs will go on when you’re done. But for now, hurry.”

Ruby nodded.

“You got it!” she answered, grabbing Weiss’s hand and pulling the woman towards the washroom, pushing open the heavy door and letting it swing shut behind them, sealing them off from the arcade.

The electronic ambience of the games and the loud beat of music became nothing more than a muted sound as soon as the door shut, sounding more like it was from a party three houses down a street, rather than directly outside the door. Idly, Weiss wondered what kind of need a washroom would have for what seemed like sound proofing, before she quickly realized that she didn’t actually _want_ to know the answer to that question.

Beyond that, however, the washroom seemed relatively normal. Two stalls were situated on the left side, Ruby immediately making her way into the first one, leaving the second empty. Weiss idly noted that the washroom didn’t seem to have any preference for who used the washroom, so long as they didn’t clog the toilets.

The walls and stalls were painted black, splashed with atrocious neon paint ranging from pink to yellow to an orange that looked like radioactive vomit. Graffiti in silver marker crossed the walls, so frequent that Weiss was tempted to go looking to see if the stalls came included with one. Instead, she settled with examining the nearest scrawling of words, leaning in to read it aloud.

“Where’s Fluffy?” she read, confusion staining her words.

“One plot line at a time, Weiss!” came the reply, Ruby’s words mixing with the sound of the lock clanging shut.

Weiss shook her head, moving to glance at the other side of the washroom – two sinks and a hand dryer were situated below a mirror; nothing out of the ordinary. Fighting down the undignified urge to sit up on one of the sinks, Weiss simply leaned against the wall. There was a brief silence, before Ruby spoke aloud.

“I think the toilet seat is vibrating to the beat.”

Weiss sighed.

“Can you just _go?_ ”

“Sorry, sorry.”

Silence fell once more in the washroom – a fact that did not go ignored by Ruby.

“Um, Weiss?” came the tentative comment.

Weiss raised an eyebrow, then realized that Ruby could not see her, choosing instead to hum in reply.

“Can, um…”

The words trailed off, Weiss frowning over it.

“What is it, Ruby?” she asked flatly.

“Can you… make noise?”

It wasn’t what Weiss had been expecting to be asked. Her brow furrowed as she frowned in confusion, voicing her bewilderment aloud.

“What?”

“Well, you know…” Ruby trailed off again.

“No, I don’t know,” Weiss responded, “Why do you want me to make noise?”

“Because it’s awkward to pee in silence when someone else is around!”

Said silence met Ruby’s explanation, Weiss taking a few extra seconds to formulate a reply. Nothing came to mind, and Ruby took her lack of words as a sign to further elaborate on the issue.

“It’s not so bad when someone else is peeing at the same time,” Ruby explained, “that’s like twin tinkles, you know? But when it’s just silent and you know someone else is around, it’s just so _awkward_ to pee. So unless you want to pee at the same time…”

“Why on _Remnant_ would I want to pee at the same time?”

“Hey, Nora always used to say that ‘friends who pee together, stay together.’”

“And are we friends who want to stay together?”

“…Yes?”

“Try again, Ruby.”

“Okay, fine, not really.”

“ _No._ ”

“Geez, Weiss, have a little heart!”

“You’re asking me to _pee_ with you. I already fully left my comfort zone once tonight, I’m not doing it again.”

“So standing around while _I_ pee is _in_ your comfort zone?”

“ _That is not what I meant, and you know it, Ruby Rose_.”

Ruby giggled, the sound filling the small room.

“I know, I know,” she said, “I’m kidding, Weiss. You don’t have to pee with me. But seriously, can you run the tap or something? Then it’ll be a little less awkward.”

Weiss sighed, but complied, moving to turn the handle on the tap. Immediately, the sound of running water filled the room, the splash of liquid hitting the sink suddenly alerting Weiss to her own personal dilemma. Before she had time to contemplate too long on it, however, she quickly became aware of a lack of sound from Ruby.

“Ruby.”

There was no reply, only a silence filled with running water. Weiss continued on.

“Why aren’t you going.”

“Weiss, don’t you think listening to see if I’m peeing or not is a little bit weird?”

“I’m in the same _room_ as you,” Weiss all but growled, feeling her headache creeping at the edges of her conscience once more, “I can’t help but take notice to a distinct _lack of sound_ coming from you.”

Ruby’s giggle did nothing to help the impending return of her headache.

“Okay, sorry,” the redhead replied, “But, um, I can’t go?”

There was silence, before Weiss answered.

“What.”

A different giggle from the younger girl this time, one that sounded oddly guilty.

“You know those times when you really, really have to go, but just… can’t? Like it just won’t come out?”

Weiss resisted the urge to beat her head against the sink and save herself from having to continue the conversation at all. The thought of permanent brain damage did help dissuade that decision, however.

“Ruby, you’ve been telling me for the past ten minutes how much you _needed to go_.”

“Hey, I can’t help it! It’s not like I _want_ to suddenly be unable to go. I promise you, I am not holding it in.”

If there was any doubt that the headache was returning, it was now gone. Weiss rubbed a finger against her lightly aching temple.

“Ruby, the longer we spend in here, the more time I have to pay my therapist for when I need _counselling_ once this is all over.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry! Um… maybe if you make more noise, it’ll help?”

“How do I do that?”

“Try the hand dryer!”

Shaking her head and silently cursing the gods, Weiss moved to smack the silver button, engaging the machine. It sputtered as it started up, coming to life with a rattle and series of screeches that sounded suspiciously like several screws caught between fan blades. For a moment, it seemed as if they’d finally found a solution – then the last of their failing luck ran out, and the machine gave a cross between a wheeze and a groan, dying completely with a loud bang.

Silence and the sound of tap water resumed filling the washroom.

Weiss slammed her palm against the silver button several times more, but to no avail – the machine had died, refusing to start at all. With a heavy sigh, Weiss dropped her hand, bringing up the other to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration. Ruby’s slow, hesitant commentary did nothing to help the situation.

“… Weiss, did you break the hand dryer?”

The white haired woman barely suppressed her scream of vexation. Ruby took her silence to mean that yes, the hand dryer had indeed met its end, and decided to continue speaking.

“Um… I’m out of ideas?”

“Can’t you just _go?”_ Weiss replied harshly, frustration lacing itself into her tone.

“I wish I could, but I can’t – oh! Try saying things that have to do with water? Maybe that’ll help?”

At this point, Weiss was sure that Ruby was just fucking with her.

“Noah’s Arc,” the white haired woman said weakly, seeing no choice but to continue, “Atlas Falls. Water spouts. Puddles. The ocean. A great white shark.”

Ruby’s sudden snicker derailed her train of thought.

“A great _Weiss_ shark.”

“RUBY.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it!”

There wasn’t enough patience in the world to get her through this painlessly. Weiss continued on with the perseverance of a marathon runner whose course had been replaced with wet cement.

“Umbrellas. Rivers. Rainboots. Thunderstorms. Pouring rain–”

“That’s it!”

“ _What’s_ it?” Weiss said in exasperation, as there was still no sound from Rubys stall aside from the young woman’s voice.

“Can you sing for me?”

Of all the requests in the last three hours, of all the hoops she’d been forced to jump through, there was no way Weiss could have ever foretold this task. She blinked, trying to understand what Ruby meant – and when nothing came to mind, she forced out the only word she could.

“What.”

“Like, that children’s song! The one about the old man, and the pouring rain, and how he bumps his head and dies from a concussion?”

Weiss distinctively remembered the song being slightly less morbid, but she chose not to have that discussion.

“You want me to sing _that?”_

“Well, it’s about water, right? That’s the only song I can really think of, aside from the “Itsy Bitsy Ursa,” and I don’t think you want to sing that.”

Weiss didn’t really want to sing at all, if she was being honest, but at this point, what did she have left to lose? Her dignity she had left behind in Ren’s restaurant, and she’d already embarrassed herself countless times in front of Ruby, the redhead doing the same vice versa.

With an awkward clearing of her throat, Weiss straightened up, and began to sing.

“It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring…”

The song continued, and Weiss nearly cried in relief as an anticipated sound came from Ruby’s stall, all but drowned out by the still running water and Weiss’s voice. Halfway into the chorus, Ruby commented.

“Wow, Weiss, you have a really nice voice.”

“Less talk, more peeing!”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n!”

With an eyeroll, Weiss continued. She wouldn’t tell Ruby this now, but years of vocal training were coming to her aid now, helping her to beautifully sing a children’s song in the hopes that her date for the evening could pee.

Weiss didn’t think she’d ever top this date in sheer ridiculousness.

At last, the song ended, and so did Ruby’s plight. After a minute, Ruby emerged from the stall, opening the lock with a clank of metal. Immediately, the sight of the sinks greeted her, one still running to drown out a sound no longer happening. Ruby’s brow furrowed at the sight.

“Man, we are probably hiking up their water bill,” she commented, glancing at Weiss as she spoke. She startled at the sight that greeted her – Weiss was looking at the floor, her face and expression obscured by her bangs and their shadow. Ruby swallowed, genuinely concerned for her partner.

“…Weiss?” she asked hesitantly, leaning towards her partner to try and see her expression.

“Ruby.”

The ice in Weiss’s voice – about as frigid as “Weiss Cream” – froze Ruby in her movement, fear instilled in her veins. The redhead swallowed nervously.

“... Yes, Weiss?”

Weiss did not comment on the way Ruby’s voice shook, instead starting off on her own conversation topic.

“All that running water, all those phrases about liquids, the song about the rain…”

Ruby swallowed again, trying to keep her knees from knocking together.

“…Yes?”

Weiss didn’t reply for a moment. Then, she looked up at her partner, and cold cyan met fearful silver.

“Now _I_ have to pee _too._ ”

Ruby blinked. And blinked again. The corners of her mouth upturned slightly, her cheeks rising in a smile – Weiss’s eyes widened, realizing what was about to happen.

“No, Ruby, don’t you dare–”

She was too late; there was no stopping Ruby now.

Raucous, loud, unstoppable laughter burst from the redhead, howls and giggles shaking her small frame. She wrapped her arms around her midsection, sinking to her knees, ever thankful that she no longer had to pee.

“O-oh my god,” she forced out between giggles, “You-”

“Ruby, it’s not –”

“Because y-you had to sing for me–”

“Ruby, don’t–”

“Now _you_ have to pee too!”

Weiss made a noise of frustration as Ruby burst into another fit of laughter, all but collapsed on the floor at this point. Pushing back her bangs in a gesture of irritation, Weiss fixed the snickering redhead with a glare, narrowing her eyes at the woman.

“Is it really _that_ funny?”

“Yes,” Ruby replied honestly, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye. Weiss threw up her hands in frustration, Ruby gathering herself and getting to her feet.

“Alright, alright,” Ruby said, “Sorry for laughing so hard – it’s just, you have to–”

“No, do not start again.”

Ruby stifled her rising giggles with a smirk, stepping out of the way as Weiss strode into the stall. Then an afterthought occurred to her, and she couldn’t hold back the comment.

“But really, Weiss, you couldn’t have realized that sooner? Then we could have peed together, and stayed together!”

Ruby Rose nearly met a premature death by way of a toilet paper roll missile.

With a narrow dodge, Ruby chuckled as the roll smacked against the mirror and fell into the sink, immediately soaking up the water from the tap.

“Come on Weiss, really?” the redhead teased, “You’re bringing toilet torpedoes into this?”

She paused, frowning as she thought on that phrase.

“Unless you have another type of toilet torpedo, in which case, let me go turn on the fan.”

“RUBY!”

It took them seven minutes, no small amount of snarky commentary, and a godly amount of patience, but at long last, the pair were ready to emerge from the washroom.

Weiss and Ruby stood in front of the door, staring down at Weiss’s chained hand, and the open handcuff that dangled from it.

“We should put it on.”

Weiss shot Ruby a glance at her suggestion, raising a white eyebrow in scrutiny.

“You _want_ to be back in cuffs?”

“Well, no, but otherwise Fox will know we took them off,” Ruby explained, “and I don’t want Yatsuhashi to get in trouble, after he helped us out.”

Weiss frowned, but Ruby did have a point.

“Fine,” she growled, “but don’t pull too hard. It hurts when it digs in.”

“Yeah, it really does cause a bit of pain, if you aren’t expecting it,” Ruby said, reaching out to grab hold of the loose cuff, “Maybe it’s the wrong size for us?”

“I don’t think there really are sizes for this sort of thing,” Weiss replied, frowning as Ruby tried and failed to latch the cuff around her hand, “I think if it’s at the wrong angle, it hurts no matter what size it is.”

“Fair enough,” Ruby said absentmindedly, more concerned with trying to get the handcuff to stay around her wrist while locking it, “Can you help me with this? I can’t seem to get it to connect.”

“Here, you dunce,” Weiss muttered, moving closer to grab hold of the undone cuff, “let me give you a hand with that.”

“I’ve almost got it,” Ruby replied, eyes narrowed in concentration as she aimed the latch towards its slot, “Just a second… nearly there…”

The redhead shifted her stance, her left foot sliding into Weiss’s right one. It was a terrible moment to realize that toilet paper was stuck to the bottom of the white haired woman’s shoe, and therefore meant that she had no grip – which, as a result, meant that Ruby all but kicked Weiss’s foot out from under her.

Weiss toppled forwards, smacking into Ruby and knocking both of them clear to the floor. There was a thud as they landed, the sound of a cuff latching clean together, and sounds of surprise from the both of them. Ruby opened her eyes to find Weiss right in front of her, and both of them in a position that would make Yang mourn the loss of her sister’s innocence.

Ruby was on her back, elbows propping her up – Weiss had landed nearly on top of her, only kept upright by her hands, which had braced her fall. Their legs were tangled together, and Ruby immediately felt her face light up – then confusion came over the redhead as she realized that Weiss wasn’t taking notice of their position at all, instead staring down at her hands.

Ruby followed the woman’s stunned gaze down, realizing immediately why Weiss wore such a look of utmost terror.

Both of Weiss’s hands were cuffed together.

Slowly, with the presence of mind as someone who has poked a sleeping bear and watched it awaken, Ruby’s gaze travelled back up to Weiss’s face. The woman was already staring back at her, her expression unreadable.

They stared at one another for a brief moment, silence tangible between them. Then, slowly, Weiss’s face changed – first disbelief passed across her features, followed by irritation, which was replaced by pure, unmistakable _fury_.

“Ruby Rose…” she began, her voice oddly calm despite the ire in her eyes. Ruby winced, waiting for the final blow. Weiss didn’t let her wait long.

“Wrong hand, WRONG HOLE!”

The door slammed open before Ruby had a chance to reply, both girls yelping as it narrowly missed hitting them. In the doorway stood several figures, all wearing different expressions that feel into a range between shock, surprise, confusion, and anticipation.

Fox was front and foremost, Yatsuhashi nervously hovering behind him – a crowd had gathered at the back of them, drawn by the words emanating from behind the closed door. Had either girl had the presence of mind to consider why the group had been eavesdropping, they would have turned redder than Pyrrha’s hair at the realization over how their conversation had sounded to anyone not knowing the context.

Which happened to be everyone outside the washroom door.

Weiss closed her eyes, counting her way to one hundred, trying to keep the rage within. Ruby opted for a different method, choosing instead to impersonate a beached fish. Silence fell upon the scene, understanding coming across most peoples’ faces, a shit-eating grin coming across Fox’s.

Needless to say, the young man didn’t help the situation any.

“Ohhhhh myyyy,” he drawled, sensing the mood despite not being able to see the position the girls were in, “What on Remnant do we have here?”

For the countless time that evening, both Ruby and Weiss cursed every god available.


	12. Hotshot

If Blake hadn’t been impressed by Yang’s vocabulary, she was now blown away by the sheer amount of curse words that had crammed themselves into the blonde’s brain. The standards were given quite bluntly, mixed in with a couple of inanimate objects – Blake winced upon hearing their designated location – and even a change in language partway through (had that been _Mandarin_?). Either way, the sudden torrent of swearing that would have had a sailor bowing in shame both surprised and amused Blake, and did nothing to wipe the smirk off of Cardin’s face.

Yang’s violently phrased reaction to the man had done nothing to help their situation, instead drawing a couple of curious eyes to the sudden explosion of expletives, which was the last thing the pair needed when they were trying to maintain subtlety. Of course, Yang’s hair shone brighter than a Batman spotlight in the sky, so subtlety was kind of a moot point by now.

With a yank on their shared chain, Blake cut off Yang’s exercise in exclamations, drawing lilac eyes towards her. Amber narrowed at the blonde, trying – and failing – to communicate the importance of quietness in their situation. Yang, predictably, got none of it, instead raising a confused eyebrow in expression.

“Keep it down,” Blake whispered, resisting the urge to roll her eyes, “we don’t want any of the red-shade idiots to notice us, do we?”

Yang half frowned, half pouted in a mixture that made Blake add a new emotion to her repertoire – perturbed sympathy.

“I guess not,” Yang replied sulkily, “but it’s Caaaaardin.”

The syllable of the man’s name was drawn out long enough to qualify it as a song lyric, and Blake failed to see the meaning behind it.

“Why is Cardin so bad, exactly?” the dark haired woman enquired, sneaking a glance at the man in question. He didn’t seem rather threatening nor intriguing to her – he looked like the dime-a-dozen frat boys that frequented the bars near her apartment. The ‘hey babe, make me a sandwich’ tank wasn’t helping matters any.

“Cardin,” Yang growled, not even sparing the man a glance, “is not a nice guy.”

“Considering he’s wearing an incredibly sexist statement in plain view, I gathered that myself. That can’t be the only reason, though.”

Yang shook her head in agreement, which really should have made no sense, but that Blake understood perfectly.

“Cardin’s… a bit of a special case, actually. He knows me from my university days, and knows my other friends from varying events, most of which involving alcohol and a plethora of ‘sun’s out, guns out’ tees. He’s got a bit of a reputation for being a total jerk – if he’s here, that means Nora ran out of people to recruit for our shared nightmare, and turned to the bottom of the barrel.”

Blake was almost surprised by the fact that Yang only referred to him as a ‘jerk,’ before she remembered that nearly every curse word in several languages had already been applied to him. Yang was running low.

“So, what you’re saying is we can’t trust him?”

“Well, that’s for sure,” Yang replied, “but it also now makes sense as to why we got called here. The rest of my friends remember the Tom Jones incident, and are smart enough not to send me here. Cardin, on the other hand, probably relishes in the fact that we’re risking a gang fight by just stepping into the building.”

“One, you say ‘Tom Jones incident’ like it’s an everyday occurrence, so I feel like I should point out that it _isn’t_. Secondly, if he’s gone to the trouble of making us return to the site of carnage, does that mean he’s got something even worse planned?”

Yang snorted.

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” she commented, “but there really is only one way to find out – there’s no way Cardin will just hand over the next clue, and if I try to beat it out of him, we’ll be spotted for sure.”

Blake sighed.

“So, we’re trapped?”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“Well, let’s go face our tormentor.”

“More like our _Tom_ mentor.”

There was a pause, which seemed silent in spite of the loud bass thrumming through the building.

“I will play the song that got you kicked out of here at full volume.”

Yang’s grin wasn’t even sheepish in the least.

With a punctuated eyeroll, Blake moved towards Cardin, who had clearly grown more impatient over the duration of their conversation. The man greeted them with a lift of his glass, the rim frosted with salt. The smell of tequila hit Blake’s nose as they drew close to the man, and she resisted the urge to wince and back away. Yang, on the other hand, drew ever closer, fury and apprehension mixing in her eyes.

“Cardin,” she growled in greeting as they drew up next to the man, the smirk only growing on his face as his name was snarled aloud.

“Evening, Yang,” he said snarkily, before he gesture to the bar stools beside him, “Please, both of you, have a seat.”

They complied, Yang maintaining her eye contact the entire time, Blake making sure she didn’t miss the seat as a result. When both were seated, Cardin finished off the last of his glass, letting the pair stew in anticipation. Eventually, Yang broke the tension.

“What are we doing here, Cardin?” she demanded, fury brewing in the undertones of her voice like embers in the depth of a fire pit. Cardin ignored her, finishing off the last of his drink and setting the glass down with a clink, making a sound of satisfaction. Turning to the pair, he spoke in reply at last.

“Why, whatever could you mean, Yang?” he asked smarmily, “You’re here for the next challenge of the night!”

As Yang struggled to hold back her scream of rage, Blake interjected, both for the sake of Cardin’s survival, and their attempt at subtlety. Judging by what Yang had told her about the brunette, Blake wasn’t sure that Cardin deserved her efforts to keep Yang from strangling him, but still. Somehow, she didn’t quite think “homicide” was on the list of challenges for their evening.

“I think what she means,” the dark haired woman spoke, “is why we’re in this particular bar, one that could very easily get us into a _brawl_.”

“It’s Blake, right?” Cardin asked, completely ignoring her comment and instead leaning towards her, “I don’t believe we’ve ever met before. Cardin Winchester, quarterback.”

Blake reluctantly shook the hand he thrust towards her, pondering on whether or not she was supposed to be impressed by his proclaimed title, and if he was so set on telling people about it that it was his email signature. Cardin took no note of her silent musings, instead choosing to throw a wink and smile at her before speaking again.

“And by the way, if the whole thing with Yang doesn’t turn out, you can always turn to me.”

“I’m charmed,” Blake replied, her voice completely monotone, “Swooning, in fact.”

Cardin was either born without a sarcasm detector, or his ego was so high that it had installed a filter that turned insults into compliments. The brunette winked, before Yang pulled the conversation back towards her.

“Thank you for hitting on a girl I’m on a _date_ with, Cardin,” the blonde growled grumpily, “Now would you tell us, as Blake mentioned before, why we’re in _Junior’s?”_

“Fine, fine,” the man relented, waving a hand in placation to them, which did nothing to actually placate them, “The truth is, you two aren’t actually supposed to be here.”

The pair blinked at that. Confusion was apparently one of the few things Cardin could actually detect, as the man grinned at their expressions.

“Let me rephrase that,” he continued, “You two aren’t supposed to be _inside_ this place.”

“Explain,” Yang commanded, her tone brooking no room for protest, “or else you’re going to be getting a close up look at out handcuffs, via my fist to your face.”

“Ooh, playing hard to get,” Cardin replied with another cringe inducing wink, before he realized that he was actively poking the sleeping bear, and decided to get to the point.

“Fine, don’t beat me into the bar,” he continued, rolling his eyes slightly, “I made the decision to have you guys actually come in here. The original challenge Nora planned for you was just to have you meet out front of the building, and then go from there, because she knew you’d be able to figure out which bar it was. I’m the one who decided to make you come inside, and forgo the planned challenge.”

Yang’s eyes narrowed, lilac glaring holes into the brunette. Blake lifted an eyebrow, she herself attempting to figure out the brunette’s intentions.

“And why, pray tell, did you think that that was a good idea?” Yang questioned, her words tight.

“Because,” Cardin said easily, before his tone changed serious and he pointed a finger at the blonde, “I don’t want to do the challenge they wanted. If I’m stuck helping with this stupid night, then I’m at least going to get something out of it.”

Curiosity and suspicion curled in Blake’s gut, the woman mistrusting of the brunette before them. Yang clearly felt the same way, her entire frame tensing in reaction to his words.

“… What exactly are you looking to get out of this?”

Cardin took a moment to answer, letting the tension build between them until it was tangible enough to nearly feel heavy. He traced the rim of his empty glass with his finger, before latching onto the side of it and pushing it towards Yang. Turning to face the blonde fully, eyes alight with mischief, he spoke a single phrase.

“Drinking contest.”

The tension deflated from Yang like air from a punctured balloon, or a whoopee cushion. The blonde visibly slumped, as though someone had taken Cardin’s words as a sign to cut her puppet strings. She groaned loudly, clearly not thrilled by the man’s proposition.

“Come on Cardin, _really?_ ” she whined, eyebrows contorted into a mixture of disbelief and displeasure.

“You and me,” Cardin continued without responding, “unless Blake wants to join you, which might actually make things fair.”

Yang squinted at his phrase.

“You realize who you’re talking to, right?” she asked, tone filled with wariness, “Cardin, I _know_ you remember my nickname.”

“Hotshot, Dragoness, Dionysus, the Unbreakable Kerry Schmidt – believe me, I know,” the brunette replied flippantly, waving his hand in disregard, “I remember them all, but names and titles don’t matter in a battle between true men.”

“Firstly, I think you might have mistaken my gender. Secondly, you _literally_ introduced yourself with your sports title.”

“ _That doesn’t matter_ ,” Cardin hissed, seeming slightly perturbed for the first time that night. He then paused, taking a moment to regain his smug composure, in the same way a snake resets its jaw after swallowing its prey whole.

“Either way,” he continued, glancing back to the pair, “the only way you’re getting out of here is _after_ you’ve beaten me in a drinking competition.”

Yang groaned again, raising her free hand to squeeze the bridge of her nose in irritation.

“Honestly, Cardin,” she began, her tone seeping frustration, “you had to pick tonight to have your stupid little contest? You couldn’t have waited for another time to try and add the “drinking” badge to your stupid little Macho Musketeer sash?”

“Well, when else could I have proposed this?” the man shot back, neither confirming nor denying the presence of a masculinity approval garment.

“ _Literally any other time_ ,” Yang growled, lilac eyes narrowing at the man, “Cardin, you go drinking with us occasionally – and I know the others invite you to join us at other times. Of all the birthdays, promotions, and other stupid reasons we get together – you pick a _date night_ to try and challenge me?”

Cardin had begun shaking his head the moment she’d begun listing off congregation causes, ignoring her last question. When Yang had finished her small tirade, the brunette glared at her, narrowing his eyes and pointing an accusing finger at the blonde.

“You and I _both_ know,” he shot back condemningly, “that on all of those occasions, you wouldn’t have said yes to a drinking contest. In fact, the only way someone could get you to drink against them would be to force them into it, which is exactly why I chose tonight. You were a champion, Yang – and you never rise up to prove it anymore.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Yang snarled, a mixture of guilt and malice warping her tone, “and I do that for a very good reason.”

“Why, because you’re afraid someone will beat you?”

“Because I don’t want to become a damn alcoholic like the rest of my family, you asshat!” came the angry reply, Yang tense from anger, “You know very well what happened to my dad. You think I want to end up like him?”

Cardin scoffed, though his expression did hold a slight bit of shame – something Blake found herself surprised to learn he was capable of feeling.

“Fine, I can respect that,” Cardin replied, “But dangers aside, you did throw away what many would consider to be a fantastic talent, and a rare one, too. I’m not asking you to face off against everyone in the bar, Yang – just me, because the only way to prove myself against you is to give you no other option.”

Yang forced down a yell of frustration, a strangled sound coming from her throat instead. Blake reacted then, deciding that standing on the sidelines of the conversation wasn’t going to do any of them any good. She placed a hand on Yang’s shoulder, the blonde herself clenching her hands into tight fists in a desperate bid to keep them from wrapping around Cardin’s throat.

“Look, Cardin,” Blake began, her words cautious but offering no kindness, “tonight has been… a bit of a stressful evening. And we’d _really_ appreciate it if you didn’t make it any worse for us by making us face whatever else is planned for us with a stomach full of alcohol.”

“Eh, I know what else they have planned for you. It’s nothing you can’t do while–”

“ _And,_ ” Blake interrupted his retort, finding her dislike for the man to be growing by the second, “we’d really _, really_ appreciate it if we didn’t have to file a police report for why we used shot glasses as projectiles against a man without respect for anyone but himself.”

Cardin smirked, apparently unbothered by the vague threat and the thinly concealed insult.

“I think we’d all appreciate that,” he replied honestly, “but no can do. I’ve been waiting to face Yang ever since she dropped out of the running, and I’ll be damned before I lose this chance.”

“You might well be damned to a large hospital bill in the near future,” Blake muttered, but Yang’s own interruption drowned out her words.

“Fine, Cardin,” she said flatly, her tone still irritated with a strong undercurrent of anger, but no longer ruled by malice, “Let’s say I accept your challenge. What exactly is your game?”

Blake blinked in surprise, glancing at her partner. The sudden change from Yang’s anger to reluctant acceptance was enough to give her whiplash, and the dark haired woman wasn’t even sure why the blonde had decided to tentatively give in.

Cardin, on the other hand, didn’t even stop to consider the reasons behind Yang’s resignation. The brunette smiled wide in a mixture of victory and conceit, standing up and leaning over the bar’s counter. From behind the bar he pulled out three shot glasses, and a bottle of bright amber alcohol, tinged with red veins of colour – Blake froze at the sight of the latter, reminiscence chilling her veins.

Yang reacted to the sight of the drink as well, but in a different matter – she tensed in anticipation, the corner of her mouth quirking upwards.

“Firebrand,” she spoke softly, the word slipping off her tongue like a well-loved language, “You really do want to tempt the dragon, don’t you?”

Cardin grinned wickedly, clearly pleased by her reaction.

“What’s better,” he replied, “than killing the dragon in her own lair, with her own hoard of weapons?”

Yang chuckled at that, the sound both sultry and threatening.

“Oh, Cardin,” she teased, her voice sickeningly sweet, “Didn’t you know?”

She paused, suddenly leaning forwards and snatching hold of Cardin’s collar. Yanking the brunette forwards until their noses were nearly touching, her lilac eyes narrowed, seeming to flash red under the bar lights. She finished her statement with a growl, her words forced through bared teeth.

_“Fire cannot kill a dragon.”_

Cardin swallowed as he batted her hands away, leaning back from their close proximity. Yang straightened up as well, the corners of her mouth turned up in a satisfied smirk at the brief look of fear that had passed onto Cardin’s face.

Blake, who was tired of both the play fighting and the verbal whiplash, decided to interject.

“Explain,” she said flatly, drawing startled looks from the pair as she shook them from their feud.

Yang blinked, taking a moment to realize what Blake meant – Cardin was slightly faster on the uptake, smirking and lifting the bottle of alcohol, giving it a small shake. Amber eyes watched the amber liquid slosh against the edges of the glass bottle, Blake trying to keep down the shiver that crept up her spine.

“Firebrand,” Cardin explained, “The strongest liquor in all of Vale, with a fiery kick that makes your eyes water and your ancestors weep for mercy. It’s–”

“I know what Firebrand is,” Blake cut him off, her voice curt and seeping from behind clenched teeth, “What I don’t get is why you seem so determined to get Yang to drink it.”

Cardin chuckled, leaning back to run a hand through close cropped brown hair.

“Fair question,” he responded, shooting a glance to Yang, who didn’t meet his stare. Lilac eyes had drifted down to clenched hands, though out of guilt or contained anger Blake couldn’t say. Cardin continued on, ignoring Yang’s discomfort.

“The answer,” he said simply, “is because Firebrand was Yang’s weapon of choice. Back when she outdrank enough people to build a small army, you could challenge her with whatever you wanted – vodka, whisky, tequila, whatever. But if you _really_ wanted to face her, then you had to pick Firebrand. Strongest liquor for the strongest drinker; how else did you think she earned the name ‘Hotshot?’”

Blake made a noncommittal noise at that, understanding coming to her. Cardin took it as a sign to continue, shaking the bottle slightly to slosh around the liquid inside.

“After all,” he said, watching the motes of red swirl like stars inside the bottle, “Firebrand was already strong enough to knock out the strongest of drinkers, but Yang was even more famous for the way she drank it.”

He dropped the bottle down, flashing a grin at Blake as he regarded her with tales of Yang’s so called glory days.

“Lit the shot on fire, chugged it down. Literally a hot shot.”

Blake swallowed, memories coming back to her in a blur of bargaining and a haze of heat. She knew the trick Cardin was referring to, the very feature that had set apart Firebrand from the start, and given it the name – the alcohol’s unique ability to be lit aflame, but never harm the drinker. It seemed like magic, a flame that brought heat did not burn – perhaps the alcohol had taken the effect instead, choosing to scorch throats rather than the mouths it entered.

A neat party trick, it had been called at first. Those capable of tolerating the heat were heroes, set apart from the rest. And one by one, each of the heroes had risen to the point they’d fallen – Blake herself seeing the downfall of one of them.

Yang, she realized with a strike of worry and a swallow of realization, was probably one of the few people who’d shed their Icarus wings, avoiding a meltdown by sparing themselves the wrath of the sun.

Not that Cardin probably knew it, though. Tales of Firebrand were always passed around as stories of merit and badges of courage, not the gateways to breakdown as they actually were. The alcohol was raised as a test for the best, the hotshot technique one that was deemed nearly impossible. For one who’d never seen the true effects of the liquor, it was the ultimate test – Cardin included.

As Blake mused on the stories surrounding the drink, Cardin had turned back to Yang, shaking both women from their personal reveries with a question.

“So?” he began, lilac and amber drifting up to his face, “Will you accept the challenge?”

When silence met his proposition, he paused, brow furrowing in thought, before his face broke into an arrogant grin and he pointed to the pair.

“If you’re scared,” he suggested, “you’re welcome to try and bring me down together. You two count your shots together, and if I can beat your combined total, then I win.”

Yang started at that, narrowing her eyes in a piercing glare and frowning.

“And why would you let us do that?” she queried, her tone filled with suspicion, “You want to beat _me_ – why bring Blake into it?”

Cardin shrugged, the arrogance still embedded in his smile.

“Let’s just say I like a challenge,” he explained, before he quirked an eyebrow at the blonde, smile falling as his tone turned serious, “That, and you look afraid to do it alone, so I figured I’d offer you a solution.”

Yang scoffed at that, the sound audible to them all.

“Amazing,” she countered, “You do have some semblance of mercy after all.”

Ignoring Cardin’s exaggerated bow, she continued on.

“But regardless of how you think I look, I’m not afraid to take you on alone. And anyways, whether or not Blake participates is up to… Blake?”

Yang’s sentence changed to a question as she glanced over at her partner, suddenly taken in the silence of the young woman. Worry filled Yang’s features as she took in Blake’s own, scanning the dark haired woman’s features with concern.

At the mention of sharing the alcohol, amber had gone wide, Blake freezing in in place as memories and a jolt of fear had risen to the surface. The rest of the conversation had faded into static as the dark haired woman found herself lost in thought – then she was pulled back to the current moment by the call of her name, Yang’s cautious tone easing her from reminiscence.

“Sorry, what?” Blake asked, her tone shaking slightly in spite of herself, “I wasn’t…”

Her words trailed off, unsure of how to phrase her sudden disconnect from the conversation. Yang picked up on her discomfort immediately, lilac narrowing slightly as they regarded the expression on Blake’s face. Without sparing a glance back to Cardin, the blonde spoke firmly, her tone serious and authoritative.

“Cardin,” she said flatly, rummaging in her pocket and pulling out a handful of change, tossing it to the brunette without even looking, “Make yourself useful and go put on a song.”

Then she paused, an afterthought coming to her.

“And for the love of Oum, if you play Tom Jones, I will personally make sure that the Firebrand bottle makes its way to a place that the sun doesn’t shine.”

Cardin blinked, then grinned wickedly, his sadistic mind finding an opportunity to wreak havoc.

“Oh, but that’d be so much fun,” he began mockingly, “Don’t you want–”

“ _Cardin_.”

Yang finally turned to look at the man, her tone send shivers up Blake’s spine. Cardin didn’t look any less startled – his grin slipped, worry passing briefly over his face. Yang paused, staring at the man – the lights from the dance floor shone on them for a moment, and in that second, Blake could have sworn the comforting lilac turned to a threatening red.

Then the moment passed, the lilac returned, and Yang spoke again.

“ _Go_.”

Cardin stared at the blonde, frozen for a brief moment. Then his gaze shot towards Blake, and back to Yang, before he grinned wide and shook off his sudden paralysis.

“Fine, fine,” he responded as he hopped off of his bar stool, “but don’t blame me if you don’t like the song!”

With that, the brunette disappeared into the crowd, winding his way towards the jukebox. Yang watched him go, waiting until the black tank disappeared behind a wall of bodies before turning fully to face Blake. The dark haired woman herself continued to stare in the direction he’d gone, slight confusion furrowing her brow.

“... Blake?” Yang began, an eyebrow cocked in curiosity. Blake replied without looking at Yang.

“How exactly,” she said simply, turning to look at the blonde midsentence, “does one play a jukebox while a DJ is already at work?”

Yang blinked, then laughed, the sound relaxing to Blake’s nerves.

“It’s one of the ‘features’ of the club,” she explained happily, pointing towards the direction of the jukebox, “even if the DJ is up there, you can put on a song on the jukebox, and it’ll automatically play when the current song is over.”

Yang paused, a cheeky grin passing onto her face.

“And as I discovered, you can put on twenty-one versions of the same song, and the DJ can’t override them.”

Blake smiled as Yang giggled over the explanation, before her gaze fell back on the Firebrand, and her expression fell slightly. Yang noticed the change, tracing her gaze to the alcohol bottle before looking back to Blake.

“Hey,” she said, her tone soft and caring, expression filled with concern, “Are you okay?”

Blake blinked, words slipping out before she could stop them.

“Yeah,” she said hurriedly, drawing blonde eyebrows up in surprise, “I just…”

She trailed off, looking down at her hands as she gathered her words.

“I just know what Firebrand can do.”

Large, tan, warm palms suddenly reached out to cover her own, the handcuff chain rattling slightly with the motion. Blake looked up in surprise, finding worried lilac looking back at her. With a deep breath, Blake finished her explanation, tone low and filled with pained nostalgia.

“My… friend,” she began, “he could drink Firebrand, just like you. Wasn’t bothered by the heat, which made a lot of people jealous – and a lot of people want to try and beat him. He used to get coerced into drinking contests so much, that…”

Her gaze dropped once more, finding Yang’s warm hand tracing her own.

“He hated the label ‘alcoholic,’” she stated quietly, Yang’s fingers stopping in their ministrations, “but in the end, that’s what he became.”

She looked up to Yang, taking in the look of sympathy and worry that filled freckled features.

“He was always angry,” she finished, “and it’s easy to find a reason to be at the bottom of a bottle.”

Yang took in a sharp breath, her brow furrowing in cold realization.

“Blake, he didn’t…”

Blake frowned, confused for a moment on what the blonde was implying, before she understood and felt the insinuations chill her veins.

“No, no,” she assured quickly, shaking her head slightly, “his anger was never directed towards me.”

She felt a warm squeeze on her hands, and she glanced down at them.

“He picked fights a lot with other people, though,” she continued, finding it easier to speak without seeing Yang’s reactions, “Used to get him in a lot of trouble. He made enemies with a lot of people in this town, and one day…”

The palms squeezed again, and Blake felt herself look up without meaning to. Yang stared back, concern deep in lilac pupils. Blake swallowed, the ending of the story suddenly seeming damaging.

“He left town,” she lied, and for a moment, she could have sworn she’d seen relief wash over her partner’s face. Yang took a breath, lilac blinking shut for a moment. When her eyes opened again, Blake realized she hadn’t been seeing things – the lilac pupils were filled with a strange sort of empathy and relief.

“He left? Just like that?”

Yang’s question shook Blake from her observations, the dark haired woman startled by the sudden apprehension in the blonde’s voice.

“Yes,” Blake confirmed, confused by the way tension seemed to drain from the blonde’s shoulders with her answer. This time it was Yang’s turn to look away, down at the hands in her lap, before the blonde spoke in a melancholic tone.

“My dad was the same way,” she explained softly, and Blake felt something inside her cry in empathy, “we… lost family when I was young, and eventually he found his way to cope at the bottom of a bottle. But my dad was always like me, too strong a tolerance for his own good, and we really struggled with money for a while. Taught me to manage ways to survive, at least…”

Her voice trailed off as the blonde trailed into memories, and Blake squeezed the warm hands the same way Yang had squeezed hers, a comfort in the painful nostalgia. Lilac drifted up to amber, before Yang swallowed and continued.

“I don’t know how much Ruby understood it,” she explained, “my dad wasn’t violent or anything, so I think she grew up thinking it wasn’t that unusual. But he wasn’t the dad I grew up with, even after our uncle shook him out of it. He was never the same again.”

Yang glanced towards the Firebrand, her voice softening to the point that Blake had to strain her ears to hear it.

“I don’t want to become my dad,” the blonde explained quietly, “Everyone used to think my drinking ability was great, and it was fun to flaunt back in college, but… I knew the truth about my dad, about my family. Alcoholism runs through our ancestry, and I saw firsthand what it can do. So when I realized that I was starting down the same path, I…”

She paused, swallowing before she finished.

“I don’t want to become my dad.”

She repeated her words, this time tinged with sorrow. For a moment they sat in silence, before Blake squeezed her hands again, lilac rising to meet amber. With a soft smile to her partner, Blake spoke again.

“Guess we’ve both lost relatives to it, huh?”

Yang smiled, shaking her hand slightly to rattle the handcuffs as she spoke.

“More uncommonly shared knowledge, I guess.”

As Blake chuckled at the comment, Yang suddenly frowned, as though she’d suddenly caught on to Blake’s phrasing.

“Wait, did you say rela-”

Her words were suddenly cut off with the loud blaring of a song opening, recognizable within the first few notes. Blake blinked, Yang’s question lost in the sudden interruption.

“Is that…?”

Blake began her inquiry, only to have the words trail off moments later as Cardin forced his way out of the crowd, reappearing in their company with a devilish grin. Yang fixed him with an unamused glare, lilac boring holes into the brunette.

“Cardin, _really?”_ she began, her voice flat, “ _Hit Me With Your Best Shot?”_

Cardin laughed loudly, the sound drawing curious eyes from those around them.

“It seemed appropriate,” he replied when his laughter had petered out, pretending to wipe a mirthful tear from his eye. As Yang rolled her eyes, the brunette crossed his arms, tilting his head as he regarded them both.

“Well?” he spoke suddenly, prompting confused looks from both women, “What’ll it be? Are you in?”

“We’re in.”

Blake started, glancing at her partner in surprise. Yang was staring back at Cardin with a fierce look of determination, lilac eyes narrowed.

“Yang, I…” Blake began, only to have her words trail off when Yang glanced at her. Realization appeared in lilac depths, and Yang turned back to face Cardin, grinning as she spoke again.

“Correction,” she continued, “ _I’m_ in. Blake doesn’t need to get involved in this.”

Cardin grinned wickedly, clear satisfaction coming onto his face. Regarding her acceptance as his victory, he returned to his bar seat, pulling the Firebrand towards him and reaching for the shot glasses.

Blake pulled slightly on the handcuffs, the sudden jerk causing Yang to look at her in surprise.

“Are you really going through with this?” the dark haired woman asked, amber scanning Yang’s face for any sign of regret, “If it’s like what you said before, with your dad, then we don’t have to do this. I’m sure there’s another way out, one that doesn’t involve you beating Cardin with a bar stool.”

Yang chuckled, raising her free hand to scratch the back of her head. Then her smile fell slightly as she dropped her hand, looking at Blake seriously.

“It’s alright,” she explained, her tone steady, “I don’t want to have to drink him into the ground, but if it’s the fastest and easiest way to get us out of here, then I’ll do it.”

She paused, tilting her head in thought and letting her blonde hair cascade over her shoulder. Then she grinned wide, the smile wicked enough to match Cardin’s own.

“Besides,” she continued, her voice now low with a hint of malice, “if this means I get to beat him so badly he’ll never ask me again, it’s entirely worth it.”

Blake rolled her eyes, but said nothing, their conversation pause filled with the sounds of Pat Benatar. Yang glanced back at Cardin, finding him in the process of opening the Firebrand, then turned to look at Blake.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this, though?” she asked, blonde brows furrowing. Blake blinked at the concern, quirking an eyebrow before responding.

“If you are, then I am as well,” she replied, before an afterthought struck her and she squinted at Yang, “So long as I don’t have to drag your drunken butt out of here afterwards.”

Yang laughed, the sound free and easy.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that,” she said confidently, flashing a knowing grin at her partner, “I’ve got a secret weapon, remember? I might be a bit tipsy for twenty or so, but nothing serious.”

Blake raised an eyebrow, regarding the blonde doubtfully, but any retort she might have had was cut off by the sudden sound of clinking glass. Black and blonde turned to face brunette, finding Cardin waiting before them with two filled shot glasses, the third one empty and off to the side.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” he said threateningly, face warped into a determined grin, “You ready to go down, Xiao Long?”

“Whatever you say, Winchester,” Yang shot back, leaning forwards with a tone of bravado.

Cardin smirked, sliding one of the two glasses towards them. Yang intercepted it in its path towards her, catching it easily in the palm of her hand. Immediately, the sharp smell of alcohol hit Blake’s nose, causing her to wince slightly in reaction. Yang glanced at her in concern, Blake shaking her head slightly to ease her confusion – Cardin whistled loudly, catching the attention of several patrons nearby them.

“Alright, everybody!” he called out over the bar’s music, several of the red-shaded members taking notice of the brunette. Yang swore quietly, turning away to hide her face – Blake shifted to try and hide the glowing mass of blonde behind her as much she could. It was apparently moderately successful, as none of the fedora-adorned employees moved in their direction.

“Cardin, you idiot!” Yang hissed at the man, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Cardin offered no explanation aside from a smile sent their way, before he continued loudly addressing the crowd.

“We’re about to hold a nice drinking competition over here,” he explained, “and while all of you are welcome to watch, we’d really appreciate it if someone could fill the glasses for us.”

“Blake’s here!” Yang interrupted, her words a quiet growl, “Why don’t you just ask her to do it?”

“Conflict of interest!” Cardin retorted, “She’s obviously on your side, so she might stack the odds against me.”

“Cardin, those are shot glasses. They’re a little bit hard to stack the odds with. What’s she going to do, substitute the Firebrand for something else, _right in front of you_?”

Cardin made a tsking noise, raising a finger imperiously.

“Women have mysterious ways of working,” he pronounced, confirming that he indeed did think with his crotch area.

As Yang made a noise of strangled frustration, the arrival of a fourth person caught Cardin’s attention. The trio turned to face the newcomer – Yang’s first thought upon seeing the man was “brick wall” – who raised a hand in greeting.

“Evening,” he said, his voice low, “You need someone to ref the contest?”

“Well, less of referring, and more just filling the glasses,” Cardin replied, pointing towards the setup, “And it might not be for very long, if my guess is correct.”

He grinned at Yang, who glared back at him. The newcomer lifted a large dark eyebrow, his gaze passing from Cardin to Yang, then over to Blake. Upon reaching the latter, his eyes widened slightly in recognition – Blake shook her head the tiniest bit. Yang caught the motion, eyebrow quirking in intrigue – Cardin, on the other hand, took no notice of the silent exchange.

The man straightened his posture slightly, before holding out his hand and speaking.

“Tukson,” he introduced, Cardin gripping his hand with a satisfied grin.

“I’m Cardin,” the brunette replied, “this over here is Yang, and the babe handcuffed to her is Blake. By the way man, those are some _fantastic_ sideburns.”

Yang raised her eyebrows at the brunette as the pair dropped their hands, Tukson moving behind the bar to face the pair.

“You sure you don’t want to add a ‘no homo’ onto the end of that?” she asked sarcastically, Cardin narrowing his eyes in reply. Before another round of bickering could begin between the pair, Tukson placed a second set of shot glasses onto the counter, filled them both, and clapped his hands together.

The sound drew the attention of the trio, as well as several groups standing around them.

“So, what’s the limit for this challenge?” he asked, glancing back and forth between blonde and brunette.

Cardin and Yang shared a look, as well as a silent conversation, before they turned back to Tukson.

“We know our limits,” Cardin replied, Yang nodding beside him, “Don’t worry about having to call us on that. We’ll stop when we have to – you just keep pouring shots until we’re done, yeah?”

Tukson nodded, then gestured to the glasses already sitting before the pair. Cardin and Yang both blinked at the sight of claws extending beyond his finger tips; the latter said nothing, but the former grinned wide and picked up his shot glass, tilting it towards the man.

“Ready to go, Wolverine?” Cardin asked, grinning even wider at the way Tukson’s eyes narrowed slightly. Blake shifted in her seat uneasily, Yang picking up her own shot glass.

“Shut up, Cardin,” she growled, before glancing at Tukson and speaking, “Sorry about him. I’m ready if you are.”

Tukson nodded, and Blake heard a ‘bets on the blonde’ from behind her. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed that they weren’t the only ones in the corner anymore – on the contrary, they appeared to have drawn quite the crowd to their little competition.

The dark haired woman glanced back to the pair – Cardin didn’t seem bothered in the least by the attention, and a look to Yang revealed that she didn’t, either. In fact, the blonde’s entire demeanour had changed from the happy-go-lucky appearance she had worn when entering the club, to a fierce, determined attitude that caused her eyes to narrow in concentration.

Tukson clapped his hands once more, drawing Blake’s attention back to him – neither blonde nor brunette spared the sideburned man a glance, too focused on staring one another down.

“In that case,” Tukson began, “I guess there’s nothing stopping us. First one to reach their limit wins, the crowd can count the total of shots. Ready?”

While keeping eye contact that was usually reserved for police interrogation rooms or someone with their eyelids taped open, Cardin and Yang both nodded. Tukson took a breath, then–”

“Begin!”

The shot glasses lifted to their mouths, the burning amber liquid thrown back with determination. Both Yang and Cardin swallowed the drink without choking, neither giving any indication that it was as strong as it truly was. As Tukson slid the next round to them, Cardin flashed a grin to Yang, lifting his glass up as though toasting her.

“Again!”

Another round of shots were slammed back, glasses slammed to the counter a moment later. The crowd surrounding them made noises of approval, Blake watching the pair anxiously. Cardin was grinning widely, arrogance clear on his features – Yang wasn’t even smiling, her face frozen in a mask of concentration.

When the third round disappeared down their throats – to the loud approval of those watching – both competitors winced slightly as they swallowed. Cardin clenched his grin, lifting any eyebrow to the blonde.

“Feeling the burn yet?” he asked, his voice slightly rough.

Yang nodded, lifting her own eyebrow to match his raised one.

“A bit,” she admitted, before she added on to her answer, “You ready to give in yet?”

Cardin laughed as he picked up the fourth shot, shaking his head.

“Not even close,” he shot back, though the determination in his voice wavered slightly.

By the time the sixth shot rolled around, both of them were showing the effects of the downed drink, cheeks bright red and movements slightly slower. Cardin shook his head, attempting to clear the buzz – Yang placed her glass down gently, eyes closing for a moment before they opened again, slightly hazy.

“Reached your limit yet, Cardin?” she asked softly, her voice teasingly sweet. The brunette clenched his teeth, his attitude of arrogant smiles having left after the fifth shot.

“Not yet,” he growled in reply, the words forced out with clear effort.

Yang tilted her head, but took the seventh shot without comment, regarding Cardin with clear doubt. The crowd had gotten louder, and grown in size slightly – Blake would have been concerned about being noticed by the employees, were it not for her awe over Yang’s tolerance.

She had seen people drink Firebrand in heavy amounts before, but to show such little issue while doing so was incredible in its own right. Judging by Cardin’s reaction, he was trying to keep up quite the façade in order to match Yang’s own.

The seventh shot went down to a great amount of cheering, the eighth to even more – the latter shot took great effort on Cardin’s part, the brunette taking a moment to keep from choking. Firebrand’s nasty habit of burning the drinker’s throat seemed to be taking its toll on him – Yang, on the other hand, handled it without qualms.

The ninth shot slid across to the pair, Tukson regarding them both with caution. Yang narrowed her eyes to Cardin, pointing at the man – missing by an inch or two, but more or less in the general area.

“Give it up, Cardin,” she commanded, her words slurred in the slightest, “I know you reached your limit two shots ago.”

Cardin narrowed his eyes, clearly angered by the comment.

“Not a chance, Xiao Long,” he shot back, Yang’s last name butchered by the slurring in his voice, “If I’m going down, you’re going down with me.”

And with that declaration, he leapt off his bar stool, raising his shot glass high as he did so.

Then he froze, as the past eight shots caught up with him, spurred into reaction by the sudden upright motion.

Blake, Yang, Tukson, and their crowd of followers regarded the brunette for a moment, watching him sway slightly on the spot – then he fell backwards, caught narrowly from hitting the floor by a few fast moving patrons.

Silence fell on the group. Yang stared at the motionless Cardin for a moment – then she shrugged, and threw back the last shot.

The crowd around them burst into laughter and cheering, the sudden noise rousing Cardin from his stupor. Blinking and groaning slightly, Cardin looked around for a moment – then he realized his position, and tried to stand up. The patrons, sensing danger from the flailing limbs, immediately let go – and Cardin fell the last foot or so to the floor.

Growling at the sudden acquaintance, he shakily hauled himself to his feet, standing up unsteadily – several hands reached out to support him, but he shook them off with a snarl.

Cardin turned to face Yang, pointing at the blonde in accusation – he also missed by a foot or so, which Yang giggled at, but he didn’t notice.

“This isn’t over!” he yelled angrily, “I don’t know what you did, but I promise you, this–”

Cardin’s words cut off suddenly, his expression of anger suddenly changing to one of paramount horror. As Yang watched in amusement, Blake in surprise, Cardin’s pallor changed to a green to match Yatsuhashi’s shirt.

Immediately, Cardin whirled around, pushing people aside in his haste to get to what was presumably the bathroom. The moment his back disappeared, Yang’s determined façade broke, and laughter spilled from the blonde like water from a burst balloon.

“And that’s the end of that,” she forced out through her giggles, the sound contagious – Blake began chuckling, Tukson’s booms of laughter spilled out, and the crowd around them began to laugh too.

In a situation eerily reminiscent to that of her sister’s own handcuffed date’s success, the crowd around Yang slowly dissipated, leaving the pair with chuckles, commentary, and congratulations. The blonde’s freckled cheeks were still red, but she was far more put together than Cardin had been, a fact that did not go unnoticed by her new amount of admirers.

Blake still regarded her partner with concern, waiting for the copious amounts of alcohol to work their way through her system in full – but Yang only seemed to improve, the Firebrand having done nothing but lower her voice a notch.

Eventually, the crowd around them left them alone, Tukson their only companion. The sideburned man had placed the shot glasses back on the counter, picking up the remaining Firebrand and regarding it thoughtfully.

“I doubt he’ll mind if I take this,” he spoke aloud, before an afterthought occurred to him and he glanced towards the blonde, “Unless you want it? Champion’s dues, and all.”

Yang laughed waving a hand in denial.

“Pretty sure the only ‘due’ I needed was watching Cardin lose,” she replied happily, “And I already got a spectacular rendition of that. It’s all yours, Tukson. Thanks for helping us out.”

Tukson laughed, the sound rough and hearty.

“Oh, it was no problem to me,” he responded, “but thank you for beating him. He certainly deserved it.”

Yang quirked an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth lifting in mirth.

“Aren’t refs supposed to be nonbiased?” she asked liltingly. Tukson smirked in response.

“Only when the players aren’t racist,” he replied flatly, earning himself a sheepish chuckle from the blonde.

“An excellent point,” Yang admitted, before glancing at him ruefully, “I really am sorry about his attitude, though. He’s always been a jerk, and beating it out of him doesn’t work – believe me, I’ve tried on more than one occasion.”

Tukson shook his head as he moved out from behind the counter.

“Violence doesn’t always work against dirtbags like him,” he responded, “but I wouldn’t worry about it too much. For tonight, I’d say he got exactly what was coming to him.”

Yang grinned at that, put at ease by Tukson’s reassurances. The large sideburned man nodded to Blake, lifting the alcohol bottle towards her.

“It was good to see you too, Blake. I have no idea why you two are handcuffed together, but I’d say you’ve picked a good person to be stuck to.”

“You two do know each other!” Yang exclaimed, glancing back and forth between the pair. Tukson laughed, reaching out a massive hand and ruffling Blake’s hair – the dark haired woman yelped and swatted his hand away, reaching up to fix her bow with an angry huff.

“I do indeed know this one,” Tukson responded, an easy grin settling onto his features, “been selling her books for years now, amongst other things.”

“Other things?” Yang repeated, lilac eyes lighting up with mischief. Blake put her foot down before that conversation could go anywhere – quite literally. She literally stomped on Yang’s foot.

“That is not something we need to discuss,” Blake said flatly, staring at Tukson meaningfully as Yang yelped about her toe, “but I’m glad you approve of my handcuff partner choices, Tukson.”

Yang cradled her crushed digits as Blake lifted her foot, muttering something about ‘cruel girls’ and ‘not drunk enough.’ Blake ignored her, choosing instead to listen to Tukson as he bade them farewell.

“Well, I think I’ve had enough refereeing for the night,” the large man said, “I’ll leave you two to it. Blake, enjoy your evening. Yang, that was impressive, and I wish you luck with the hangover tomorrow.”

Blake rolled her eyes, Yang winced at the thought. Tukson smiled, then held out a folded piece of paper to the pair. Blake took it, confusion furrowing her brow.

“This was underneath the shot glasses on the other side of the bar,” he explained simple, “seeing as how it says both of your names, as well as some kind of clue, I’d presume it’s for you.”

Blake nodded, then swatted Yang’s hands away as the blonde tried to grab it to read it. Tukson smiled slightly at their interaction, then lifted the Firebrand in lieu of goodbye.

“Good night, ladies. Also, Yang – I’d stand up soon, if I were you.”

Yang and Blake both blinked at that, the latter turning to look at her partner in confusion.

“Stand up…” Blake began, “What does he mean by that?”

Yang shrugged emphatically, making a noise that sounded like ‘I don’t know,’ if the phrase were hummed instead of spoken.

“No idea,” the blonde replied simply, “but hey, let me see the clue!”

She lunged for it again, missing by a mile as Blake quickly dodged the attack. Quick reflexes allowed the dark haired woman to grab the back of Yang’s shirt as the blonde sailed by, keeping the woman from meeting the floor for a sudden make-out session.

All but hauling the blonde back into the chair, Blake peered at her partner, staring into hazy lilac.

“… How are you not as drunk as Cardin?” she asked in confusion, Yang slowly focusing on her as she spoke, “Judging by his reaction, I’d expect you to be almost the same way, too.”

At this, Yang broke into a brilliant grin, lifting a finger to accentuate her response. Before she actually spoke, however, she paused to think – then lowered the second finger she’d accidentally raised along with the first.

“Remember me mentioning my ‘secret weapon?’” she asked, Blake frowning before nodding, “well, this is it. The thing that made me famous. My one true talent – a tolerance to drink out an entire bar in an hour and hardly feel the effects.”

Blake tilted her head, confused by the answer.

“So… you just have a really high tolerance for alcohol?” she questioned, “One that doesn’t allow you to get drunk?”

Yang nodded, though the motion seemed to make her head spin.

“I asked my dad about it a long while back, when I realized I was the same way as him. He said that ‘being hot-blooded’ runs in his family – and then gave me some bullcrap answer about our blood running so hot it burns up the alcohol in our system before it can truly affect us.”

Blake bit back her questions about Mr. Xiao Long’s understanding of anatomy as Yang continued to talk.

“It’s the worst explanation in the world,” the blonde finished, “but it’s really all I’ve got. For whatever reason, blessing or curse, I can drink ungodly amounts of alcohol in a short amount of time, and never really feel the effects of it.”

“So… you’ve never gotten drunk?”

Yang shook her head again, frowning slightly.

“I can get drunk, same as you,” she explained, “It’s really a time based thing, I think. In quick competitions like this, it’s hard to get past tipsy. But if I drink a lot over an extended amount of time, then I’ll get drunk. Even I have a limit, it’s just a little harder to reach.”

“That makes… no sense.”

“Don’t I know it. Still, it’s what made me famous for drinking competitions – and what gave me all the nicknames in the first place.”

“Mm, how impressive.”

Yang shot Blake a lilac glare, clearly unamused by her sarcasm. Blake feigned innocence, raising her eyebrows in assurance.

“No, I’m serious! After all, what’s more striking than _hotshot_?”

Yang grumbled as Blake descended into giggles, shoving the blonde’s shoulder lightly with her own.

“I’m teasing, Yang,” she said lightly, “if it makes you feel any better, I’ve got a couple bad nicknames of my own.”

Yang glanced curiously at her partner, a blonde brow quirked above suspicious lilac.

“Oh, really?” she asked, “Like what?”

“Well, for starters–”

A crash cut off her words, the sound of a door slamming open echoing loudly above the sound of the club. The music cut off a moment later – and then two voices yelled out in unison, a pair of women staggering onto the DJ’s stage.

“YANG XIAO LONG!”

Yang’s eyes went wide, her complexion paling in spite of the alcohol-induced blush – Blake whirled to stare at her partner, finding the blonde looking fearful. Amber glanced back to the two women onstage, both of whom appeared to be slightly out of breath, and very, _very_ angry.

“Yang,” Blake began, not bothering to look at her partner, “who are those women?”

“Melanie and Miltia Malachite,” the blonde replied, also staring up at the stage, “Twin sisters, Junior’s henchmen.”

“Let me guess. They want revenge for the Tom Jones incident?”

“… Yup.”

“And they know you’re here?”

“Looks like it.”

“And if they find you, we’re in huge trouble?”

“Yup.”

There was a pause, Blake weighing her options and their current situation. Then–

“Bring it on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been a while! I won't lie to you - it's been a little hard finding time to write this, much less motivation. I'm not going to abandon the fic, but updates might be slow for a little longer. We shall see. On another note, Yang's tolerance in this chapter is indeed seemingly impossible, but I actually have met a person with this talent - tolerances are weeird things. So is writing. Hmm.
> 
> Alright, I'll stop rambling. See you in the next chapter!


	13. Sisterly Sacrifices

"So, let me get this straight. You two drank your weight in liquid back at Ren's challenge, realized Ruby needed to pee on the way here, tried to sneak by me to avoid being teased with Yatsuhashi's help, then made Weiss need to go as well… and ended up in what has been described to me as 'one of the most embarrassing positions possible,' with a slew of phrases that 'innuendos' don't even begin to cover?"

There was no answer to Fox's question, aside from faces red enough to qualify as traffic signals from the pair of women who sat across from their interrogator, Yatsuhashi quietly standing beside the trio.

When the silence following his question failed to be broken, Fox took it as a 'yes,' breaking into uproarious laughter. Ruby winced at the sound, though it was hard to say whether it was out of sheer embarrassment or simply the fact that Fox sounded exactly like an asphyxiating hyena.

Yatsuhashi sighed for what must have been the fortieth time in the last fifteen minutes, since the girls had been discovered in their awkward situation. He shot the pair a sympathetic look, Ruby receiving the glance with an appreciative nod, Weiss continuing to study the carpet before her, possibly cataloguing the variety of stains across it.

When Fox had finished wheezing his way through the round of laughter, he slapped his knee heartily, the sound fading into breathy chuckles.

"That is  _easily_  the best story of the month," he concluded happily, "with the exception of the time Yatsuhashi got caught wearing one of Coco's bras, and she nearly threw him off of the balcony."

Silver eyes shot in question to the green giant, blue eyes finally breaking their staring contest with the shag carpeting to do the same. Some things always caught your attention, no matter how much you tried to ignore them.

Yatsuhashi, on his part, raised his massive palms, sputtering in defense.

"That was because  _you_  put it on me while I was sleeping, if you'll recall," he explained, his words rapidly spoken, "The sound of the door opening woke me up, and I sat up exactly as Coco and Velvet walked through the door."

Narrowed eyes glared at Fox as the giant man finished his vindication.

"You, of course, were nowhere to be found."

"Au contraire, my abnormally-sized amigo," Fox opposed sassily, "I was in the perfect location to be found, if anyone had bothered to check the air vents."

Yatsuhashi's only response was to roll his eyes as Fox continued on.

"Though, I suppose the chaos was a little distracting towards the task of checking for anyone recording the situation," the redheaded man mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully as he spoke, before he grinned wide and shrugged emphatically, "oh, well!"

Three sets of eyes rolled at that statement, not that Fox knew it.

"I'm still not sure what god decided to twist the fates to make you four think it was a good idea to live together," Weiss muttered darkly, blue eyes finding their way back to the floor.

Fox, unsurprisingly, completely ignored her comment in favour of a new conversation topic.

"At last, she speaks!" he crowed gleefully, slapping his palms against his thighs and leaning forwards towards the young woman, "For a second there, I thought you'd lost your voice due to pure humiliation. How ya doin', Weissy?"

Weiss once again exemplified her ability to freeze people with her icy glare, or would have, if superpowers were actually a thing that existed on Remnant. Fox, unfortunately, remained a proper temperature, cackling at her expression. Ruby, for a moment, found herself in awe of the man's apparent immunity to the Schnee Glare™. Being blind probably had something to do with it.

"Well, judging by your silence, you haven't lost the ice queen touch," Fox continued on with a grin, Weiss's hands clenching for a moment as though envisioning his throat beneath them, "but really, I did want to clarify something with you."

Silver and blue glanced at him in a mixture of confusion and curiosity, then in surprise as the mocking grin slipped from Fox's features, replaced by an odd look of sobriety.

"Did you honestly believe that had I known you both needed a bathroom break, I would have made fun of you for it?"

When met with silence once more – albeit one filled with confusion, not murderous intent – Fox's brow furrowed, pale eyes narrowing with slight offense.

"Weiss, I'm not  _that_  mean," he said pointedly, "Even I wouldn't tease someone about needing to heed nature's call."

The look on Ruby's face belonged somewhere in a Renaissance painting – more specifically, in one that involved some sort of treachery. There was no other place for such an expression of complete and utter betrayal.

"Weeeeeiiiiiisssss!"

Ruby's drawn-out cry pulled the attention of several groups nearby, but the white haired woman in question didn't react to it at all. Instead, with the arrival of Fox's proclamation, she had chosen to withdraw her soul from the waking world, retreating into the land of 'I refuse to deal with life any longer.'

Ruby, unfortunately, had missed the train to Nope-ville, instead being forced to deal with the sudden realization that yes, they could have gone through an embarrassment-free scenario.

"We have to sneak past, she said," Ruby muttered darkly, "it'll be fine, she said."

Whether it was Weiss's self-preservation instinct or the need to defend herself against Ruby's comment was up for debate – either way, the white haired woman returned to the stream of consciousness by shooting back a response.

"I never said  _that_ ," she retorted, drawing another round of chortles from Fox.

"Alright, alright," he placated, "there's no point in fighting over it now. Spilt milk is spilt milk either way, right? Weiss, you completely overestimated my range of teasing; and Ruby, your accidentally-sexual comments were loud enough to draw the attention of half the arcade. Both are at fault, right?"

He could have just kept the peace, but Fox was never really about that diplomatic life.

"I, of course, am no way in fault."

It was hard to say what was more infuriating – Fox's comment in the first place, or the fact that he literally  _could not see_  their glares. The vexatious grin on Fox's face didn't dissipate with the sudden silence, the man instead waiting a moment before commenting.

"They're glaring at me, aren't they?"

Yatsuhashi sighed, closing his eyes.

"Your guess is correct."

Fox giggled, leaning back and crossing his arms.

"If it's any consolation, it could have been worse," the redhead assured them, drawing confused looks from all three members of his company.

"How?" Ruby asked, her confusion tangible in her voice.

If you looked up the definition of 'shit-eating grin' in the dictionary, Fox's picture would have been attached under 'Figure A.'

"There could have been several camera phones that  _didn't_  record the entire conversation."

Ruby and Weiss both groaned, Fox waving his hand in what he probably assumed to be an comforting gesture.

"Oh, don't worry about those," he said reassuringly, "Yatsuhashi and I made sure everyone deleted them. Your legacy is safe, Weiss."

Ruby missed the latter portion of his statement, too hung up on the first.

"How did you get all of them to erase them?" she asked confusedly, brow furrowing in question.

Fox gestured to the giant at his side, Yatsuhashi cracking his knuckles to further indicate their methods.

"It's a little hard to say no to a talking tree," Fox explained simply, before pausing in thought, "Though, we did ask a couple of them to send the videos to us before deletion, purely for personal purposes."

"Personal purposes," Weiss repeated doubtfully, "Why do I feel like there's another blackmail opportunity coming out of this?"

Fox put on the greatest expression of offence that Ruby had ever seen, tantamount to that of someone who had just been told his mother was a hamster, and his father smelt of elderberries. She briefly wondered if he'd practiced it in front of a mirror, before remembering that a mirror was completely useless to the young man, and wondered if he'd asked for feedback from others instead.

"What an outlandish suggestion!" Fox cried out in indignance, lifting a hand and pressing his fingers against his chest as he spoke, "Weiss, how could you ever think I would blackmail you for something?"

He dropped his hand, his entire demeanour shifting as he spoke again.

"On a completely, entirely unrelated note, we need a new bathroom door again. Velvs blew ours up in her latest meth lab attempt."

"Velvet's a chemistry student," Yatsuhashi elaborated calmly, as though allusions to their roommate being a drug lord were a common part of his life, "She practices formulas in our bathroom, where the ventilation is best."

" _Was_  best, until the smoke short circuited the vent system," Fox clarified, looking grumpy for a brief moment.

Weiss sighed heavily, frowning as she reached up with her free hand to pinch the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

"Why exactly," she questioned flatly, "do you need me to pay for Velvet's damage expenses? Coco can easily cover the costs on her own, you and I both know that – and  _she's_  the one living with you, not me."

Fox chuckled awkwardly at that, while Yatsuhashi shook his head slightly.

"Well, see, here's the thing," Fox began, something akin to shame in his voice, "Coco said she's tired of replacing the doors, so we need to come up with the money ourselves, this time."

Weiss sighed again, looking up to the ceiling briefly as if to find a reason to go on.

"And, naturally, you decided to blackmail me into paying for you?"

"You got it, sweetheart!" Fox replied heartily, flashing two thumbs up at the exasperated woman. Yatsuhashi, sensing the rising lethal intent in Weiss's reaction to the gesture, slowly reached out and pressed his hands back down.

Ruby took no note of this, puzzled by a former part of the conversation, judging by the expression on her face.

"How many times," the redhead began uncertainly, "have you guys wrecked your doors in order for Coco to stop wanting to pay for repair?"

Fox's brow furrowed as he looked up in thought, wracking his memory for past instances.

"Well, let's see," he replied, raising a hand to count on his fingers, "There was the time I tried convincing Yatsuhashi to do a jumping front kick in the hallway, but he jumped too high and hit the door frame… the time when Coco threw Sun through the front door because he refused to button up his shirt in the apartment… three separate times Velvet's undergrad project torched out the kitchen… the time Blake came to visit Velvet, and somehow the balcony doors shattered…"

Ruby and Weiss's faces morphed from ones of slight disbelief to those of complete amazement, mouths steadily falling open as Fox only continued to list off travesties against their doors, coming up with even more when they thought he had finally finished.

"… That time Coco kicked the front door down because her key got stuck in the lock, the time Neptune set the master bedroom door on fire, and the time Velvs and I broke down the door to scare the food delivery guy."

He paused, grinning wide before frowning contemplatively and turning towards Yatsuhashi.

"Did I miss any?"

"The very first one," Yatsuhashi replied without a beat, "when you and Sun decided to re-enact the axe scene from The Shining, and ended up cutting a shape out of the door that he later decided looked like Shang from Mulan."

Ruby and Weiss just blinked in confusion, words beyond them at this point.

"Riiiight, the classic one," Fox said, grin wide as ever as he turned back to the pair before him, "Anyways, yeah. That's why Coco wants us to pay this time!"

Weiss simply stared at him for a good half minute, before she closed her eyes and shook her head, beyond arguing at this point.

"Fine," she said blankly, knowing when reason no longer mattered in an agreement, "I'll pay for the door."

Fox made a noise of triumph, raising a hand up into the air. Dutifully, Yatsuhashi high-fived it.

Ruby was still staring in astonishment at Fox, her mind trying futily to wrap itself around the information just given to her.

"You guys sound…" she began, drawing the attention of the three around her, "… Like  _awesome_ roommates."

Weiss groaned, raising her free hand to press against her nose again. Yatsuhashi shook his head slightly as Fox, predictably, made a noise of sheer delight.

"I knew there was a reason why you were friends with Sun!" he crowed, "Other than the fact that your sister is his drinking friend. You sound like a promising kid, Rose, and an even more promising roommate. Ever considered living with four people who lost their damage deposit in the first ten minutes of being in the room?"

"How about," Yatsuhashi interjected, "we leave the roommate proposals for later on, after they've completed the challenge?"

Fox blinked, before nodding sagely.

"An excellent suggestion, if I do say so myself."

"You did just say so yourself," Ruby pointed out, brows drawn in confusion. Fox continued on, completely ignoring her in the way an atheist would avoid people handing out Jehovah's Witness pamphlets.

"As much fun as it is to talk about past shenanigans, Yatsu's got a point. You two still have a bit of a busy night ahead of you, so if you want to be finished it by the time the sun rises, then we'd better let you get to it."

He raised up a finger dramatically, unable to see the looks of worry and ire that had crossed the women's faces over the mention of "busy night."

"In this arcade," Fox continued, "you two have two challenges you must complete – one with me as the judge, and the other with Yatsuhashi. Seeing as how the thing I need is currently occupied, we'll start off with Yatsu."

"Actually," the green giant added on, "my challenge equipment is currently being used, too."

Fox frowned, tilting his head for a brief moment before his expression cleared up in realization.

"Ah," he confirmed, "You're right, I do hear the music. Sounds like they're nearing the end of the match, though. Should we ask to use the machine next?"

Yatsuhashi made a noise of approval, Ruby and Weiss trading concerned glances. The arcade held everything from shooting games to fishing ones, giving a huge range for their tormentors to pick from. Trying to guess what was coming their way was like trying to see your reflection in a bowl of pea soup.

Fox and Yatsuhashi, however, took no notice of their unease – or if they did, they ignored it entirely – instead choosing to stand and gesture for the women to follow them, making their way through the crowd. The groups in front of them split apart like the Red Sea as Yatsuhashi led them through it, handcuffs tangling around wayward drunkards not an issue this time around. Weiss, for one, was glad that her name wouldn't have to be made into a frozen treat again.

They crossed the room towards a darkened corner, one that was continually lit up by flashes of pink and blue, complete with blaring, fast paced music. A crowd surrounded the machine placed there, people cheering on the patrons taking part – for a moment, Weiss could have sworn seeing money changing hands at the outcome.

Fox and Yatsuhashi slowed, then stopped as they drew up next to the crowd, the fast paced music petering out as the song ended. Cheers went up from the group, and for a moment, the people in front of them shifted slightly, giving Ruby and Weiss a clear shot of the game.

Weiss didn't recognize it, but if the sudden groan was any indication, Ruby did.

"Fooooox," the redhead whined, "Really? This game?"

The man in question grinned, his head swivelling towards the sound of her voice.

"If it's any consolation, Rose, I didn't pick it. Sun and Neptune did."

"That's not particularly comforting," Ruby muttered, Fox laughing as he caught the quiet words.

"Maybe not," he said with an impish smile, "But you gotta admit, there's far worse things in here to be forced to play."

He paused, frowning slightly.

"Well, maybe not when you're handcuffed together."

Before Ruby could mutter something rude in reply, Weiss decided to enter into the conversation as Player Three.

"Not that I'm not enjoying the free guessing game," she began snarkily, "But would someone like to fill me in on what's going on?"

"Oh, right, my apologies," Fox said sincerely, though the wicked grin didn't waver one bit, "Tell me, Weiss. Have you ever heard of the 'tenth place challenge?'"

When Weiss only frowned in reply, Fox interpreted her silence as an answer.

"I'm going to guess that that's a no. I'm also going to guess that you have no idea what game we're currently standing in front of?"

"Correct again, Sherlock," the white haired woman shot back.

"Well, Watson," Fox answered without missing a beat, "Allow me to eludicate you. Yatsu, if you will?"

Before Weiss could ask what that meant, Yatsuhashi moved into action – hands suddenly grasped her sides, lifting Weiss off the ground as if she weighed nothing. Ruby yelped as her hand was pulled upwards slightly with the chain, her partner suddenly ascending beside her.

Weiss didn't notice the redhead's sudden surprise, too caught up in the task of viewing her surrounding from a very different height. Her eyes traced the game machine before her, taking in the arrow pads, the bars with red peeling paint, the flashing screen, and finally, the title splayed atop the machine.

"Dance Dance… Revolution," she read aloud, her words ending with a sense of disenchantment. Fox, on the other hand, was positively thrilled with her reaction.

"You got it, Weissy!" he said happily as Yatsuhashi lowered the woman back down, "I'm assuming you do know the game, even if your only other gaming experience is that time we forced you to play Mario Kart?"

"First, don't call me Weissy," the woman began darkly, "Second, yes, I do know the game, even if I've never played it. Third, you're just mad because I managed to beat all of you on my first try."

"It says a lot about your nature," Fox retorted, "that the map you excel at is  _Rainbow Freakin' Road._ "

"Okay, okay," Yatsuhashi cut in, hands raised in a peaceful gesture as sparks flew between Fox and Weiss, "Weiss, it's good that you already know the game. Fox, you were going to explain the challenge?"

With one last glance sent towards the white haired woman – it missed and ended up directed at an elderly man in the corner – Fox straightened up, breathing in before grinning once more.

"Right, right," he spoke jovially, "Sorry, Weiss, got caught up remembering your twisted love for the blue shell. As I was saying before, there's something here called the Tenth Place Challenge. It's a custom at this arcade to try and beat it – I'm guessing you know about it already, Rose?"

Ruby nodded, before realizing he couldn't see the action, and made a noise of confirmation. Fox smiled, rubbing his hands together in excitement.

"Good," he continued, "At least one of you fully understands the importance of it, then."

"How important can a challenge for tenth place be?" Weiss muttered, "At least set the bar a little higher, if you're going to try at all."

Fox laughed at her comment.

"There's a reason for the specific spot, Weiss," he clarified, drawing a blink of confusion from the woman.

Fox then jerked a thumb behind him towards the machine that had resumed its loud music, sounds of "good" and "fail" echoing from the speakers in time to the beat.

"This game," he began to explain, "is a staple for any successful arcade. Obviously, the chance to have a dance-off against your friends, your enemies, and your date is something you don't want to miss out on."

"Obviously," Weiss repeated flatly.

"But here specifically," Fox steamrolled over her quip, "there's an extra feature to the game; one that was first known only to those who frequented this place often, and one that has spread to people elsewhere, who now come just to try and beat it."

He paused, arms akimbo as his tone became a little more serious.

"Years ago, when the arcade first opened and the game was just installed, rumour has it that a man came here and beat every song, multiple times. The scoreboards were just flooded with his name."

He paused, raising a finger.

"Now, that was quite a while back, so these days, most of his records have been beaten and replaced. But there is one song that is so hard to beat, so hard to set a record on, that only  _one spot_  on the list of scores has ever been replaced."

Weiss blinked, glancing at Ruby, who nodded in confirmation.

"Nine out of the ten records still belong to the first guy who flooded the scores, which leaves the tenth spot the only one anyone can actually hope to get in. The gap between the ninth score and the tenth is so wide that no one's ever surpassed it – we still have no idea how the guy even got such high scores in the first place."

Fox paused, tilting his head backwards slightly as he dropped his finger and finished the explanation.

"Either way, there's only one way to get onto the scoreboards for the song – beat out the tenth score, and get your name up there."

"And let me guess," Weiss interjected, brows lowered in a look of inamusement, "we have to get our names into tenth place."

Fox grinned, confirming what she'd figured out.

"That's why we call you the smart one, Weissy!"

As Yatsuhashi held Weiss back from attempting to murder Fox, Ruby wondered aloud, drawing the attention of the blind young man.

"But isn't it supposed to be really hard to get into the tenth spot?" Ruby asked, looking confused, "After all, if it's the only spot you can get into, then you must have to get a really high score to get into it."

Fox shook his head before her words had even finished.

"That's the thing, Rose," he explained, "The score for tenth place is actually really low, so if you manage to clear enough of the verses, then you'll be fine. The song's got these crazy riffs that no one can ever nail – that's probably how the first guy got the highest score – so as long as you don't fail the song, you'll come pretty close to beating the tenth score."

He looked towards her, an oddly comforting smile on his features.

"You don't have to get a crazy good score, just one that's even a single point above the other one."

Ruby exchanged a glance with Weiss – whose bloodlust had faded out – before silver eyes narrowed slightly in determination.

"Fine," she said seriously, Weiss startling slightly at the resolve in her tone, "we'll beat it. I kind of always wanted to prove to Yang that I could get my name on a scoreboard, anyways."

Fox grinned, Yatsuhashi smiling at the younger woman's willpower.

"That's the spirit!" he said heartily, before glancing to the redheaded woman's companion, "You in, Weiss?"

The white haired woman sighed heavily, before she rolled her eyes and replied.

"If I must," she answered, though a hint of resolve laced its way into her words.

Two hands clapped down on the women's shoulders, causing the pair to jump slightly in surprise – glancing behind them revealed a smiling Yatsuhashi, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes.

"Then," the tall man spoke evenly, "let us get started."

He steered the pair towards the game, Fox leading the way excitedly. They pushed their way to the front of the crowd, the blind young man speaking loudly over the ending notes of the song, drawing attention towards the quartet.

"Excuse me, everyone!" Fox called loudly, "These two young women are on a date, and need to play this game before they can embark on their next stage. If you wouldn't mind, please support them in their endeavour – they'll need all the help they can get!"

A round of laughter and a bit of cheering went up around them, before a harsh voice cut through the noise.

"Wait just a minute."

The same way the crowd turns to face a villain in a cliché movie, the people around them moved to look at the speaker. Weiss frowned at the woman who had spoken – beside her, Ruby muttered 'oh, no,' and shrank back slightly.

Weiss glanced at her partner, then back at the speaker – the young woman didn't seem all that threatening, even if her obvious twin sister looked as though she wanted to use the support rails on the game to beat Fox over the head.

"Those are the Malachite Twins," Ruby said quietly, as though that was supposed to make everything clear.

"Malachite? Like the stone that's toxic in water, or what?"

"It's their last name," Ruby elaborated, silver eyes staying on the twins, "Melanie and Militia Malachite. They're part of the group we fought with here in the first place – and Yang has bad blood with them, so they'll recognize me."

Weiss frowned, concern and a bit of anger working its way through her veins – before she could say anything more, though, one of the twins spoke again.

"We've been waiting to play this game for a long while, so if you'll… Ruby?"

The red-dressed twin frowned as her eyes alighted on the redhead, who swallowed visibly before giving a slight wave to the woman. The other twin reacted as well, swivelling her head to try and catch sight of the silver-eyed woman.

"Why, if it isn't Ruby Rose," the second twin spoke drily, smiling as green eyes narrowed below low cut bangs, "Where's your blonde brute of a sister?"

Ruby sighed, closing her eyes briefly before opening them and replying.

"Hi Miltia, Melanie," she said bluntly, an undertone of frustration laced into her voice, "It's nice to see you too."

"I believe we asked you a question," the white-themed twin spoke sharply, Weiss prickling at her harsh tone. Before the white haired woman could retort, however, Ruby pulled slightly on the handcuffs, drawing Weiss's eyes towards her – the younger woman shook her head slightly, before turning back to the twins to reply.

"Yang isn't here," Ruby answered simply, "she's off on a date of her own."

"Aw, how sweet," the red twin drawled, sharing a mocking glance with her sister, "it seems even the brawler can find somebody to love."

The second twin laughed at that, the sound akin to ice cubes in a blender – Fox winced as though someone had shoved an ice pick into his ear – her amusement over Yang's love life clear as could be.

"Well, Miltia," she replied, when her harsh laughter had petered out, "it seems that miracles do happen."

Miltia giggled, her red clothed shoulders shaking with the motion. Then she paused abruptly, as though something had suddenly come to mind.

"Wait," she said, Melanie lifting an eyebrow in question, "'Of her own.' That would imply that  _you_  are on a date, too!"

Ruby sighed exasperatedly, Weiss frowning as Melanie whirled to look at the pair, eyes wide.

"Why, Miltia, I do believe you're right," she exclaimed, her voice dripping with false excitement, "A date with… handcuffs?"

Her voice lost its tone of glee as her words trailed off, confusion replacing it. Two sets of green eyes latched onto the pair of handcuffs shared between Ruby and Weiss, observing the peculiar sight. Words failed the twins, the duo unsure of how to comment on the situation

An awkward silence fell over the group, Ruby and Weiss fighting back blushes, Miltia and Melanie staring at the handcuffs, Yatsuhashi frowning slightly, and Fox looking like he was listening to his favourite soap opera.

After a minute or two of the drawn out pause, Melanie cleared her throat, catching the attention of the rest.

"Well, anyways," she said awkwardly, "As we said before, we've been waiting to play this game for a while now. You'll have to wait until we're done before you can use it."

Yatsuhashi frowned, Fox looking contemplative as he interrupted.

"How long'll that be?" he asked, "'Cause these girls are on a bit of a tight schedule, so we can't be waiting too long."

"Hmm…" Melanie tilted her head back, bangs falling to the side as she considered Fox's question.

"About… an hour? Give or take?"

"An  _hour?"_

Fox's words were tinged with disbelief and a bit of anger, the young man looking startled by the answer.

"Alright, that's just ridiculous," he continued, "You'd be tired by the end of the first half hour."

Melanie shrugged, not looking apologetic in the least.

"Fair's fair," she shot back, "We waited this long to play, you can wait until we're done."

Fox frowned, tension rising between the pair. The twin was right – the arcade operated on a 'wait your turn' mentality, with the amount of time you waited to play becoming the amount of time you can spend on the game. It was a flawed system, but it did keep fights from breaking out between drunken gamers.

Things looked bleak, or at least very, very time-consuming, until Ruby spoke up once more.

"Well, er, the thing is…" she began, drawing the attention of the group towards her. Melanie and Miltia stared at her pointedly, daring her with glares to try and defy their statement. Ruby paused, then looked at the ground awkwardly.

"Um, maybe I shouldn't tell you…" she trailed off, the twins blinking in confusion and curiosity.

"Tell us what?" Miltia questioned, her eyes narrowing slightly. Ruby bit her lip, before she sighed and replied.

"Well, see, Yang mentioned to me that she told her date a story," the redhead explained, "and that her date then wanted to go see where the story happened, so…"

Ruby let her words trail off, the end of her sentence hanging unfinished in the air. Weiss had absolutely no idea what the redhead was insinuating – and for a moment, it didn't look as though anyone else did, either.

Then Melanie let out a gasp loud enough to startle those around her, and the moment of confused silence was broken.

"You don't mean…" the white themed twin began, staring straight at Ruby as she waited for confirmation. Miltia caught on a moment after her twin spoke, her eyebrows ascending and disappearing completely behind her wall of bangs.

Ruby nodded silently, confirming both twins' suspicions.

The pair immediately broke into action – Miltia whipped out her phone, smacking a button and holding it to her ear as Melanie whirled around and started speaking rapidly to a group nearby, barking out instructions over the din of the arcade. Fox, Weiss, and Yatsuhashi watched the scene unplay with varying expressions and emotions, Ruby observing the reaction without much surprise.

"Junior?" Miltia exclaimed loudly, a gruff voice emanating from her speaker in reply, though the words were unintelligible to the others, "She's back!"

There was a moment of silence from the other end, then a yell clear even to Ruby and Weiss burst from the speaker.

_"What?"_

"It's been confirmed!" Miltia replied, "from the second half of the Strawberry Sunrise herself!"

Ruby blinked at her new nickname, Weiss glancing at the redhead with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes – yes sir, we'll head right on over," Miltia finished, ending the call with a quick swipe of her finger and yelling to her twin, "Mel! Junior says head over now!"

The white themed twin nodding in understand, turning and relaying the order to the group that had gathered behind them. In a rush of movement, the pack made way for the door without a second glance back at the handcuffed pair, exiting the arcade premises in under a minute.

It was like a mass evacuation, one with the strangest kind of alarm Weiss had ever heard of. For a brief moment, the white-haired woman found herself in a strange sort of awe for Ruby's older sister, and the kind of fear she apparently struck into the hearts of others.

Fox and Yatsuhashi, on the other hand, looked completely blindsided. Neither woman could blame them – in under the span of two minutes, they'd gone from a near brawl, to a state of immediate surrender, then to a stampede of fleeing bodies. Yatsuhashi's eyebrows had ascended nearly to his hairline, while Fox was staring off into space with a mixture of surprise and concern on his features.

No one spoke for a moment, three of the four standing in various states of surprise, while the fourth stood with an expression of slight pride over her apparent success. Then Fox broke the silence, his brow furrowing.

"Ruby," he began, the redhead in question turning to face him, "what did you just do?"

Ruby blinked, then grinned wide.

"Oh," she replied, "Yang has a… er, history with the twins and the bar they work at. I figured that if I told them she was back to the bar, then they'd head on over to try and stop her. I guess I was right?"

Weiss nodded, satisfied with the redhead's quick thinking. Fox and Yatsuhashi, however, reacted to the news very differently – Fox blinked, caught between laughter and realization; Yatsuhashi simply raised a palm to his face.

At the unexpected reactions, Ruby frowned. Then realization dawned on her, and her face went through an array of expressions as the true understanding of her actions came to her, similar to the looks one wears when they realize they've accidentally lit a match right next to a gas station.

"No."

The redhead's word only caused the two men to react further – Fox grinned sheepishly, Yatsuhashi's palm pressed deeper into his face. Weiss blinked, before the realization hit her too.

"Don't tell me," Ruby continued, "that Yang is  _actually at the bar right now_."

Fox's sheepish grin only grew wider, his eyebrows quirked in a sympathetic expression.

"Okay," the redheaded young man replied, "Yang isn't actually at the bar right now?"

Ruby groaned, raising her hands to rest her face in, Fox's compliance the only answer she needed. Weiss, driven by some deep emotion of sympathy, reached out a hand and patted her shoulder gently.

"Er, well," Fox continued, a nervous chuckle slipping past his lips, "if it's any consolation, you might not have just sent your sister to an early grave."

Ruby peeked out from between her fingers, disbelieving silver finding milky white, prompting the young man to continue.

"Yang's only supposed to meet in front of the bar for her next task, not actually go in it. With any luck, she'll already have come and gone, and they won't actually run into her."

He was, of course, incredibly wrong, but none of them knew it.

Ruby sighed, lifting her head and tilting it back as she looked up at the ceiling for some kind of strength.

"Aaaanyways," Fox began once more, the seriousness lifting from his voice and replaced by his earlier jovial tone, "even if you might have just committed some kind of sisterly sacrifice, you two really don't have the time to be worrying about Yang, not right now."

He grinned, jerking a thumb behind him in the general direction of the now completely vacated dance machine.

"Not when your own task awaits."

And for a brief moment, Ruby desperately wished that she too had some kind of feud with a bunch of bar employees, if only so that they could come and put them out of their misery.

Of course, she wasn't nearly so lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, sweet, and enough to count as an update. I was hoping to get more done in this chapter, but I've been dragging my feet with this one, and really just needed to get something up before a month passed between updates. Apologies for how short it is - I'm back in school, which might give me more time to write, or less. We shall see. In any case, it's a chapter - and there'll be more to follow shortly. Enjoy!
> 
> Adding this a bit late, but I figured I'd throw in my inspiration for one of those door murders. The 'shang from mulan' door is apparently a real, legitimate roommate story - and here's the proof: http://cdn.someecards.com/someecards/filestorage/AKWqdefeat-the-huns.jpg


	14. The Hard Way

If Blake could have predicted how her death would play out, she probably would have picked something from a childhood fantasy, complete with a horribly predictable love confession, the grand trope of sacrifice, and even a good fight sequence, just to shake things up. Surprisingly enough, she got two out of three, and a kind of half assed attempt at the third.

Still, she never would have expected her criteria to come in the forms that they did – a bar fight started by an overdose of old pop songs, an unintentional sacrifice due to the handcuffs that kept her from abandoning her partner, and the grand presence of love in the blonde brawler who had gotten them into the whole mess in the first place.

For a brief moment, Blake almost wished her execution was by firing squad instead, just for simplicity’s sake.

In the next moment, however, she found herself yanked out of sight by the very blonde she was cuffed to, Yang diving for cover behind the bar they’d been sitting at. Blake wasn’t entirely sure how they got behind the bar – Yang had either leapt over it, pulled her around it, or even teleported, as far as she could figure out. However the blonde had done it, one second they were sitting in stunned silence, the next she had been tugged bodily behind the bar, sitting amongst racks of gleaming beer glasses and a bin of limes.

“Yang–” Blake began, before a hand moved to cover her mouth, the blonde in question shushing her to be quiet.

Well, she tried, anyways. The tanned, splayed hand actually ended up covering Blake’s eyes and left nostril, while Yang’s sound for silence was louder than Blake’s actual words. Still, it was the thought that counted.

Blake tugged the hand away from her face, Yang’s limb holding a surprising amount of strength despite the alcohol that was evidently beginning to take its effect. Amber eyes narrowed at lilac, a dark eyebrow cocking as Blake spoke again.

“Yang, what are you trying to do?”

“Shh!”

The sound came again, loud enough to draw the attention of those around them to the bar which was mysteriously making rushing water noises. Yang accompanied her request for silence with both hands this time, attempting to once more cover Blake’s mouth, but really just succeeding in flapping her arms like a chicken attempting to take flight.

With an indignant sputter, Blake batted the hands away, trying to avoid losing her eye over an errant finger. When deflection didn’t work, she grabbed the warm hands instead, holding them tight to keep them in place. That caught the brawler’s attention – Yang turned to stare at Blake with wide eyes, her mouth falling open in mock shock.

“Blake,” she said breathily, voice painted in a shade of disbelief, “Do you _really_ think we’re already ready for second base?”

Blake rolled her eyes, not even sure to begin in replying to the statement. Yang, predictably, found it hilarious, giggling loudly at her own joke and immediately forgetting the precariousness of their situation.

Realizing that the blonde’s cacophony was attracting more and more attention to their hiding spot, Blake hissed and tugged on Yang’s hands to stop the giggling, moving her hand to try and cover her mouth (she, unlike her partner’s previous attempt, actually succeeded).

Yang frowned at the sudden appendage muffling her sounds of delight, lilac nearly going crosseyed as she attempted to focus on Blake’s hand. With a great deal of squirming, Yang tugged her hands free from Blake’s weakened grasp, reaching up and tugging the dark-haired woman’s hand away from her mouth.

“Blaaaake,” she drawled, her voice thankfully resembling some form of a whisper, “Come on! You know it was funny.”

“I don’t find anything about our current situation particularly hilarious,” Blake replied flatly, uneasily glancing at the patrons around them to see if either twin was in sight, “but I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

Yang still took no notice of their current predicament, instead huffing heavily, golden brows furrowing above reddened cheeks.

“I’m not _enjoying_ myself,” she said grumpily, with a childish pout, “I just meant the joke was humorous, you know? Kind of a break from all the serious. A light in the dark. A stick amongst the holes. A p amongst the–”

“Yes, _thank you_ , I get it,” Blake cut her off sharply, keeping their conversation somewhere within the PG-13 range, “I might have laughed, were it not for the two murderous looking twins yelling out your name.”

Yang frowned at this, her name being yelled out again as though on cue.

“Yeah, about that,” the blonde began, looking oddly sheepish, “would now be a bad time to mention that the twins have possibly the largest vendetta of all those looking for revenge?”

Curiosity won over cautiousness, the need to keep quiet flattened by the question that slipped through Blake’s lips.

“Just what did you do to them?”

Yang winced slightly before replying, shoulders hunching in a self defensive state.

“I may or may not have thrown them into one another… ”

Blake frowned dismissively.

“That can’t be it.”

Yang winced again, her neck nearly disappearing completely behind her hunched shoulders.

“… And Junior might have also charged the two of them with my damage expenses, as they were the bouncers that evening.”

Blake blinked, amber suddenly filled with understanding.

“That would do it.”

Yang nodded, and silence briefly fell between them. It was promptly interrupted a moment later by a Militade’s voice again, echoing through the club as it relayed an order.

“Spread out! Find her! _She’s in here somewhere!”_

Lilac slid shut, Yang’s mouth opening to whisper panicked prayers underneath her breath. Blake held her own, the sounds of the red-shaded lackeys searching the club making their way back to them. For a moment, suspense kept the pair frozen in time – then a loud clearing of the throat sounded from above them.

Blonde and brunette whirled to look up and behind, lilac and amber wide and fearful. A grin awaited them – Tukson was leaning over the bar’s counter, eyebrows cocked in a curious expression, the man smirking amusedly. When neither woman spoke, he lifted a single finger to his mouth, eyes shifting to the left.

A quick glance in the direction revealed one of Junior’s goons nearby, searching through the crowd with the same demeanour as a cartoon villain, all the way down to the scowl. Immediately, Yang and Blake ducked down further, trying to keep out of his line of sight.

And, because nothing could ever go smoothly that night, Yang managed to shoulder check the bin of limes – which in turn knocked several glasses off of the shelf, shattering loudly on the floor below. Lilac and amber widened and narrowed, respectively, both filled with a sudden fear akin to that of teenagers in a horror movie.

No chainsaw wielding murderer was stalking, but the bar employee was pretty much just as dangerous to their well-being. For a moment, it seemed like the tale of Blake and Yang’s date was about to come to an abrupt, likely gruesome end – the red-shaded goon’s head whirled towards the source of the noise, eyes narrowing behind crimson tinted lenses.

Their saviour, however, came in the form of Tukson, who merely held up a hand to the lackey, sending a sheepish smile towards him.

“Sorry,” the man apologized, “I dropped my shot glass onto the counter. Clumsy fingers, on this one.”

He accentuated the last portion of his statement with a waggle of his fingers, the goon giving him a look of slight disbelief and suspicion. For a moment, it appeared that the man would call Tukson out on his lie – then the burly man straightened from his slumped posture, drawing himself up to his full height.

That was the end of that possibility – not that Blake nor Yang could blame the red-shaded goon. It was hard enough to call someone out in the first place, sometimes – there was no way he was going to call the bluff of a man who looked like he mixed steroids into his morning coffee. There was silence for a moment, then Tukson stared pointedly at him and spoke.

“Don’t you have someone to be looking for?”

The goon started, before frowning and turning away, grumbling under his breath as he continued his search for the elusive Yang Xiao Long. Tukson glared at his back until he disappeared into the crowd, then glanced back to the pair of women who hid below, waiting with baited – or, held – breath.

Yang looked up at the man, eyebrows cocked with concern.

“Is he gone?” she whispered, though the volume of it was more of a stage whisper than anything else.

Tukson nodded, the pair below sighing in relief and sitting up slightly.

“So,” their saviour began, his voice low and heavy, “what exactly did you two do to incur the wrath of half the club?”

“Bad blood between Yang and the general populace,” Blake replied immediately, perfectly content to sell her partner up the river in order to preserve her own dignity, “She blew up the club with a copious amount of pop songs last time she was here.”

Tukson blinked as Yang hissed indignantly, that answer having been the last time he expected. Still, he took it rather well, shaking his head with an amused sigh.

“Blake, you really do know how to pick them,” he concluded, ignoring the dark haired woman’s quip about it ‘really not having been her choice’, “Sounds like you two are a match made for one another, troublesome wise.”

At this, Blake humphed and crossed her arms, earning herself a confused and curious stare from Yang.

“Still, strange compatibility aside, you two are in a whole heap of trouble,” Tukson continued, glancing up at the workers combing through the crowd.

“You think?” Yang shot at him, her words slurring slightly. Tukson raised an eyebrow towards her, contemplation overtaking his features.

“I was wondering when that Firebrand would hit,” he mused, “Of course it would at the worst possibly time.”

Yang scowled darkly, Blake shaking her head in agreement with his words. Even if the blonde had a high tolerance, she could only hold off the effects for so long – and little by little, the alcohol was beginning to take effect, slipping past her defences by ways of slurring and hazy gazes.

Tukson glanced over his shoulder once more, before frowning and looking back down to the pair.

“Not to add unnecessary panic to the situation,” he spoke seriously, “but they’ll be checking over here soon, and the jig is up. What’s the plan?”

Blank stares met his question.

“… Please tell me you have a plan.”

Blake and Yang exchanged a brief glance – they held eye contact for a good ten seconds, sharing a silent conversation with words unheard. Then Blake shook her head, Yang grinning wide, glancing up at Tukson with a sheepish expression. The man regarded her features for a moment, before he shook his head as well.

“You don’t have a plan.”

Yang laughed then, the sound surprisingly quiet.

“Oh, I have a plan, alright,” she chuckled, “You’re just not going to like it.”

Tukson cocked an eyebrow, glancing back and forth between the bright brawler and her face-palming partner.

“Will this plan,” he began hesitantly, “involve the bar blowing up again?”

Yang pretended to think hard for a moment, pressing a finger to her chin as she contemplated on the question. After a second or two, her face broke into a grin wicked enough to rival one of Nora’s – then she looked back up at Tukson, who startled slightly at her crazed expression.

“That depends,” Yang admitted, “got any friends?”

Tukson blinked, then nodded tentatively, eyes narrowed in cautious curiosity. Yang’s grin only grew wider.

“Here, cover me for a second,” was all the warning she gave before scrambling to her knees, rising up enough to peer over the countertop. Tukson cursed, glancing around to see if anyone could spot the blonde – Yang took no notice of her dangerous position, ignoring Blake’s tugs on her handcuff in favour of scanning the crowd before her.

After half a minute of recon, she ducked back down, clearly pleased with what she had seen. Blake raised her eyebrows at the blonde, waiting for the explanation.

“Perfect,” was all Yang replied with, “this might actually work.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

Yang shot Blake a withering look, only to find genuinely concerned amber staring back at her. The blonde sighed, shrugging emphatically.

“Then we do this the hard way.”

Blake’s eyes narrowed, clearly not pleased with her answer.

“The _hard_ way?”

Yang shrugged, as though the prospect of an even more difficult challenge wasn’t particularly threatening. Blake, for a brief moment, marvelled over her nonchalance, comparing it to that of a fighter who has brought a knife to a gunfight, then decided to drop the weapon all together and simply rely on their fists. Then common sense overtook her sense of awe, and she reached forwards, tugging sharply on Yang’s ear.

“And what, pray tell, would the _hard way_ be?” she hissed, Yang yelping as she followed the tug on her ear.

“Well, if it doesn’t end up happening, then there’s no reason to worry about it in the first place!” the blonde retaliated, wincing as Blake’s fingers only held tighter, letting her know that that had been the wrong answer.

“As much as I’m amazed by your faith in hopeful outcomes,” the dark haired woman said flatly, “We don’t seem to be getting many of them tonight – and seeing as how the bike ride turned out, I’d prefer to know how this can go wrong, even if it doesn’t.”

“But we didn’t _die_ from the bike ride! I’d call that an unmitigated success!”

“No, I’d call that a near death experience, and _one_ of those in a night is more than enough for me.”

Yang muttered something under her breath, likely a curse word, before she pulled herself free from Blake’s loosened grip and spoke as levelly as she could, alcohol included.

“Fine, fine!” she whispered, “There is a small chance that we might end up having to fight our way out of here, past the two dozen or so goons that are in here, as well as anyone who was present for the fight last time.”

At Blake’s silence, Yang paused, then continued.

“Like I said, a _small_ chance.”

Blake sighed at the blonde’s assurances, shaking her head slightly as amber eyes slid shut. She might have had a high tolerance when it came to life throwing curveballs her way, but some things were just a little too much. This was a straight on fastball, breakneck speeds and approaching immediately, hanging on two strikes and three balls, their only option to swing – or miss.

Blake shook her head again, clearing her mind of convoluted baseball metaphors before she faced the blonde.

“Is there really no other idea you have for getting out of here?”

Yang thought for a brief moment – emphasis on _brief_ – before lilac blinked with a sense of finality, and the blonde shook her head.

“There’s only one other way,” she explained, “and that one involves starting with chaos, which isn’t really our best bet.”

Yang paused, frowning in thought.

“Actually, that’s really just what’ll happen if our first plan fails, and we have to do things the hard way.”

“So, our options are either start out the hard way, or try and sneak around it, but still likely end up doing things the hard way?”

“That just about sums it up, yes.”

Blake groaned, mentally correcting herself. This wasn’t a fastball, it was a knuckleball, making its way towards them with the certainty of a broken magic eight ball, and the damage delivery of a runaway train. At least with the fastball they could have at least seen how it would turn out.

“Fine,” Blake said flatly, pinching the bridge of her nose as she tried to come to terms with her situation, with the same level of acceptance as a man being lowered into a shark tank.

Yang’s face lit up into a grin, reddened cheeks rising, freckles hidden amongst the alcohol’s glow.

“ _But_ ,” Blake continued, before the blonde could interject, “we at least try and make sure that it doesn’t turn into the hard way, as much as we possibly can.”

“You got it, Blakey!” came the jovial reply. Yang fake saluted her with the words, her wild wave nearly knocking over another row of glasses, were it not for Blake’s quick reflexes.

Blake pulled gently on the hand she’d intercepted, managing to have grabbed it before it made sweet love to fragile beer mugs. For a moment, her fingers skated across Yang’s knuckles, taking in the textures of scars and knicks that spanned the tanned skin – then she unceremoniously dropped the hand back into Yang’s lap.

Yang frowned at the rough action, but before any slurred commentary could come from her mouth, a sharp curse word erupted from above. Both blonde and brunette glanced up to Tukson, who’d been acting as their sentry during their impromptu debate. His eyes were focused somewhere in the crowd, but he addressed the pair anyways, words tumbling out in a low panic.

“I hope that plan of yours is ready, Yang,” he warned, “because three of the red shade idiots are making their way over here, _right now_.”

Adrenaline shot through her veins as Blake glanced warily to her handcuffed partner, only to find a wicked grin across the blonde’s face, anticipation embedded in lilac eyes.

“I hope _you’re_ ready, Tukson,” Yang shot back, grinning up at the large man, who blinked at the excitement on her features, “Think your friends are willing to help us out?”

He stared at her for a good three seconds, before slowly, hesitantly, he nodded, like a bank clerk agreeing to put the money in the bag.

“ _Perfect_ ,” Yang grinned, rubbing her hands together in the perfect mockery of a cartoon villain. The handcuff chains clanked something awful, but she followed through with the action anyways.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” the blonde began, pausing to think before she spoke again, “Well, actually, here’s what we’re going to do _last_.”

“Why are you telling us the plan backwards?”

“ _Because_ ,” Yang drawled, as though the answer was the most obvious thin in the world, “Blake is going to flip her shit when she hears the way the plan starts.”

Blake frowned, amber narrowing at the blonde.

“You sure about that, blondie?” Tukson asked, wary eyes glancing between the pair.

Yang nodded aggressively, gold locks bobbing rapidly with the movement.

“Willing to bet on it,” she replied confidently, “and that’s saying a lot, considering my life savings are my motorcycle and about seventy lien worth of spare change.”

Tukson regarded her for a moment, before he folded his arms.

“I’m in,” he said with a grin, Yang blinking at him in surprise, before she too grinned wide and nodded, “I’ll give you all my pocket change if you’re right. Now, how’s this plan going to go, exactly?”

Over the span of a minute and a half, Yang relayed her ideas to the listening pair. To Yang’s credit, only an occasional slur slipped into her spiel. To Tukson’s credit, he managed to keep his eyebrows from ascending too far into his hairline. To Blake’s credit, she managed to keep Yang from winning her bet, keeping her outwards composure calm and collected, even if internally she was screaming frustratedly into the void.

At least, she did so until the last portion of Yang’s heist plan, when the blonde relayed the trigger to her grand escape.

“I’m sorry.”

The quiet words followed Yang’s last explanation – complete with drunken hand gestures – soft and low, the calm before the storm. There was a pause, both Tukson and Yang wincing slightly in anticipation, and–

“You want us to WHAT?”

Yang broke into a braying laugh, completely ignoring Blake’s astonishment in favour of making Tukson pay up. The blonde held up a hand, the mountain of a man shaking his head with a frown as he slapped spare change into it, Yang’s grin only growing wider.

The blonde brought it in front of her, examining the amount before laughing brightly and slapping her knee, sending a two lien coin skittering off into the dusty corner.

“Alright!” she crowed triumphantly, holding her fist of spare change, “Eighty three lien in life savings!”

Blake shook her head, before glaring up at Tukson, who raised a sheepish eyebrow in return.

“Tukson!” the dark haired woman shot out, “Do you not find anything wrong with the start of this plan?”

He shrugged, opening his mouth to speak – Yang beat him to the punch first, replying with a sluggish drawl.

“Blaaaaake,” she said jovially, “Don’t worry so much! It’ll be fine.”

“Says the girl who lit the bar on fire the last time she was here,” Blake shot back, dark brows rising in critique, “Honestly, Yang, do you really think–”

“Hey!”

Amber and lilac swivelled to the source of the noise, Tukson already having turned to it. An employee stood before them, eyes wide behind red lenses, finger quivering as it pointed towards the no-longer-hidden pair.

There was dead silence, three people staring back at one, the moment seeming frozen in time. For a single second, Blake thought that somehow, nothing would come from the encounter, and everything would be just fine.

Well, she was wrong.

The employee broke the silence the same way the click of a gun cocking shatters a peaceful scene – both turned out with fantastic triggers.

“You’re–”

The moment the word slipped from his mouth, Yang’s eyes widened, the blonde leaping into motion as she yelled out commands.

“No time for second guessing, we have no time to think of something better!”

A tanned hand wrapped around the goon’s red necktie, yanking on it and bodily pulling him over the bar with a loud _crash_ , the reverberating sound and the tinkling of shattering glasses drawing the attention of everyone in a ten metre radius towards them.

Blake yelped as the man crashed against the floor beside them, Yang wincing as he landed on top of her arm, the blonde still continuing to shout out orders.

“Tukson, go! HEIST IS ON!”

The moment after the words slipped from her mouth, the bar around them broke into movement, the sounds of rapid footfalls echoing in Blake’s ears. Tukson took off, shoving his way through a pair of approaching red shades, yelling out to his nearby group of friends. Innocent patrons backed away from the bar while employees pressed forwards – with a glance over the counter, Blake realized that the twins at the front of the club still had yet to take notice of the uproar in the back; it appeared they still had some time.

The dark haired woman whirled to face her handcuff partner, reprimanding words on the tip of her tongue – they stayed their, halted by the sight of Yang rummaging through the unconscious man’s pockets, the goon apparently having been knocked out via his sudden introduction to the concrete floor.

“Yang!” Blake whispered, eyes glancing back and forth between brawler and approaching bar employees, “What are you doing?”

“Junior smokes cigars,” Yang explained without looking up, hands still going through the man’s pockets, “but he always misplaces his lighters. So, every one of the bar employees carries around…”

Her sentence trailed off, lilac eyes narrowing in concentration before they widened in realization. With a grin of success, she pulled out an object from his pocket, letting the light glint off its metal edge as she held it up for Blake to see.

A metal lighter was clenched in her hands, a bear skull’s outline engraved into it. Before Yang could comment on it, a yell of triumph sounded from behind the blonde – an employee had reached the pair, hand raised and ready to shout for the twins.

Before he could, though, a lime smashed into his jaw with unbelievable force, knocking his glasses clean off as juice splattered all across his face. With a cry of pain and a shout of ‘my eyes,’ the employee staggered out of sight, trying desperately to wipe lime juice from his stinging tear ducts.

Yang turned back to face her partner, who was glaring at the empty space the employee had been standing in, another lime at the ready in her unchained hand. For a moment, the blonde could only stare at her date in awe, before words eventually made their way to the working part of her brain.

“… Nice shot.”

Hey, no one said it was working _well._

Either way, Blake nodded with a small smirk, Yang swallowing before continuing to speak.

“So, you’re on board with this, then?”

Blake frowned and sighed, reaching over to grab nearby shot glasses as she spoke.

“First, I don’t think we have time for small talk, right now,” she began, Yang blinking before realizing the truth of her statement, moving into action as well, “Secondly, I still think this plan is absolutely insane.”

They both paused, lilac and amber frozen in contact before Blake finished her statement.

“But damn if it isn’t the only shot we’ve got.”

Yang laughed, traces of worry gone from the sound as she held up the two bottle of alcohol she’d grabbed, amber liquid sloshing around inside one glass, clear liquid in the other.

“Well then, Blakey,” she said with a grin, “let’s show them what we’ve got.”

She paused, brow furrowing in thought, before she grinned.

“Or, as Pat Benatar would say – _hit them with our best shot_.”

Blake rolled her eyes, but helped the blonde grab the bin of limes, yanking it down to their level. By some miracle, no one else had reached them yet – though Blake supposed the crowd wasn’t easy to move through – giving them enough time for Yang to use a nearby shaker to smash some of the limes, juice spilling across the bucket.

They tossed the shot glasses into the bin, poking up amongst the limes – Yang handed the first alcohol to Blake who, with one final glance to the blonde, began to carefully pour it into the glasses. She finished with the first bottle fairly quickly, holding out a hand for the second – Yang handed it to her, the clear liquid smelling strong as the cap was pulled off.

Another yell sounded, from behind Blake this time – another lime launched itself into the employee like a missile from the tank, splattering across red lenses. No juice flowed into his eyes, however – but before Yang could curse over it, Blake spoke a single word.

“Ready!”

Yang’s attention was pulled back to the limes, semi full shot glasses sitting cosily amongst the greens fruit. Lilac shifted up to meet concerned amber, traces of nervousness deep within her date’s eyes.

Yang nodded slightly, waiting for Blake’s response – after a pause, the woman nodded back hesitantly, but with a look of determination instead of apprehension.

With a grin, Yang flicked back the lid of the lighter, sparking a flame a moment later – with one, last glance towards it, the blonde tossed away her few remaining doubts, and touched the flame to the shot glasses.

Immediately, fire sprang to the top of the glasses, the top layer of alcohol lighting up easily, the lower one not catching aflame. Within seconds, the shot glasses were all burning away – in tandem, Blake and Yang each grabbed a side of the crate, pulling the limes up to the top of the counter.

The reaction from the crowd was immediate – every last person froze, the flickering flames reflected in red lenses all around them. Then, in the same way a dam overflows, the serene moment was shattered.

“FIRE!”

One of the goons bellowed the words, the rest moving immediately into motion, all intents on capturing Yang gone. Blake watched in bewilderment as the men tore away from them, pushing through the crowd. Yang, on the other hand, didn’t even spare their retreating captors a glance, instead tugging on Blake’s chain and yelling ‘come on!’ before leaping over the counter, Blake in pursuit.

The pair ducked into the crowd, people jostling them in surprise as they backed away from the flaming counter – not that it was much of a danger; the alcohol on top of the shot glasses had mostly been burned away, the flames dwindling out.

Still, that didn’t mean anything to the employees, who had returned to the scene, each of them clutching a fire extinguisher. Blake ducked behind a taller man, her vision obscured for a moment, but not her hearing – the sound of at least ten canisters blasting in unison shot through the club, at last drawing the attention of the twins.

At the sight of the foam covered bar, Miltia’s face paled, Melanie softly whispering ‘it’s her.’ Then, a moment later, they were shoving their way through the crowd towards the bar as well, unknowingly heading the opposite direction of the very woman they were trying to catch.

Yang hadn’t stopped moving since they’d entered the crowd, the pair steadily making their way across the club, staying close to keep their handcuffs from getting caught on someone else. By the time the ‘fire’ was out, both twins at the other end of the bar, they’d reached the DJ’s booth.

They weren’t in the clear yet, though – it appeared that the goons had been smart enough to block the main exit, a veritable wall of red shaded employees lying between them and sweet, sweet freedom.

At the sight, Yang cursed, stopping suddenly and causing Blake to bump into her back. Amber eyes narrowed, before they sought out the sight of Yang’s sudden surprise – Blake took in the pack of goons, before glaring up at Yang, who stared back sheepishly.

They stared at each other for a good second and a half, Yang opening her mouth and Blake cutting her off before she could speak.

“Don’t say it.”

Yang stared back at her, lilac dancing with defiance, before–

“Hard way it is.”

“God _dammit,_ Yang.”

There was only one thing left to do. Blake glanced at Yang, Yang glanced at Blake – then the pair leapt onto the DJ’s stage, in plain view of every person that wanted at least half of them dead.

With a courage that could only be described as ‘fearless, foolhardy, and absolutely fucked up,’ Yang took a deep breath, and _yelled._

“HEY!”

Every eye in the club landed on the blonde – there was absolute silence for the countless time that night; then Yang grinned wide, lilac staring towards the stunned twins.

“Malachites, what’s good?”

Then she yanked the power cord on the DJ’s booth, and the entire club was plunged into darkness.

Well, momentarily. The lights rebooted a second later, only having been disconnected from the control board – but the darkness was more than enough to provide the pair time to leap off the stage, taking cover behind a stack of speakers.

Chaos had erupted around them, patrons shouting and screaming in surprise, employees trying desperately to find the blonde, the twins yelling out orders and threats over the din. Blake glanced at her partner, who grinned sheepishly back.

“Having fun?” Blake asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at the woman as though their situation wasn’t nearly as dire as it actually was.

“Time of my life,” the blonde replied without missing a beat, before she tilted her head back and hollered, loud enough to carry across the club.

“TUKSON, NOW!”

Blake winced at the sudden increase in volume – they both held their breath, waiting for something to happen. There was nothing for one second, two – time seemed to drag on, until at last, the familiar, obnoxious, blaring horns from the opening of “What’s New, Pussycat” blasted through the club.

The place fucking lost it.

Any semblance of control that might have existed before that moment was gone, replaced by a frenzied pandemonium, a violent response akin to that of an allergic reaction. It was as though the sound of the song had triggered some form of animalistic instinct, an urge to destroy the source of the noise – in some ways, Blake realized, it probably had.

A yell erupted from nearby them – amber and lilac swivelled to find it, catching sight of a burly, tattooed man. His yell petered out, but not before he drew back a fist, and slammed it into the goon beside him.

Red glasses shattered under the force, and the fight had begun, a spark catching flame faster than a wildfire. Yang snickered, and Blake realized exactly who the blonde had been checking for, back when she was concocting her plan – several people from the first bar fight must have been present, and were very violently reacting to the encore performance.

Yang ducked suddenly, pulling Blake down with her as a body sailed over them, launched across the club into one of the speakers. The place was in absolute chaos, nearly all of the patrons launching themselves at the employees and one another, or crowding in the corner for safety. And through it all, through the screams and howls and sounds of complete and utter carnage, Tom Jones played on.

A clattering nearby drew the pair’s attention – the sentries posted at the door had finally joined the fray, the last of the guards outside racing down the stairs and immediately being pulled into the brawl, Mercury bringing up the rear with a look of absolute glee on his face.

“Now’s our chance!” Yang yelled over the din, her words all but drowned out by the brawl around them. Blake got the message anyways, nodding and joining the blonde as they leapt to their feet, making a beeline for the exit.

A glance over her shoulder caused Blake to find Tukson, posted beside the jukebox, laughing loudly as he fended off the occasional knight attempting to slay the dragon (or in this case, the jukebox). Satisfied that he was holding his own, Blake turned back to facing forwards, following the blonde main that was clearing the way ahead of her.

“THERE THEY ARE!”

The enraged cry of one of the twins erupted from behind them, Blake not taking the time to spare a glance to figure out which one it was. The twin kept yelling, though, orders barked out over the din.

“Mercury! Stop them!”

The hired bouncer was right in front of them, their only barrier between the brawl and freedom. Mercury’s face cleared of emotion, a serious look falling onto his features as he took a step towards their path.

Then, with an absolute deadpan expression, he raised his hand upwards – Yang high fived it as they raced by, a solid smack echoing through the area.

Freedom was theirs, the Malachites screaming in outrage behind them, Mercury laughing uncontrollably. Yang and Blake bounded up the stairs two at a time, shouldering open the glass door and all but spilling out onto the street. Wide eyed onlookers stared at them, no doubt confused by the amount of noise coming from inside the club, paired with the mournful wailing of an outdated pop star.

The handcuffed pair stumbled to a stop a bit away from the door, finding no red shaded men trying to attack them. Hearts pounding as they desperately tried to catch their breath, Yang and Blake exchanged a glance – and then, in that relief-and-adrenaline filled moment, burst into laughter, the hysterical type that generally appears after a near death experience.

For a solid moment, everything was alright, the breathless laughter of two young women spiralling off into the night, backed by the faint sound of a brawl, and the last notes of Tom Jones.

Yes, for a moment, everything was okay.

And then the police sirens began.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is a bit late - but here, have our disastrous black and yellow pair, whose night is finally beginning. In case anyone is curious how they didn't light the entire bar on fire, flaming alcohol shots work by having a higher proof of alcohol 'floating' on top of a lower proof - the top stuff burns away, leaving the rest. So long as you don't spill alcohol everywhere, the fire stays put on the shot glass (hence the limes, to keep them from touching the bar).
> 
> On another note, a huge thank you goes out to anyone who's been reading this story, who has left kudos, or has even left a comment. Your support keeps me writing, and believe me, I've read over those comments more times than I can count! I don't often reply to comments, but believe me, they mean the world to me.
> 
> Anyways, next chapter should be up relatively soon (lies, the readers hiss at me. Lies!), or at least not as long as this one took. Can't leave you hanging too much longer, not when an epic danceoff awaits our white rose pair. See you in the next one!


	15. Dance Dance Humiliation

There was a Sandlot quote that had made its way into Ruby’s head years ago, and never quite left. True, she couldn’t remember it perfectly, but for the most part it still hung around deep in her subconscious, deciding to appear at completely random moments. Something about heroes getting remembered, and legends never dying?

Regardless of why the quote had decided to saddle itself with her mind all those years ago, Ruby couldn’t help but recall it, when the entire Dance Dance Revolution mess was said and done. If there was a truth to the event, it was that she and Weiss were never going to be forgotten – no, their names would forever remain associated with the game, for reasons that were less than joyous to recall.

Part of it had to do with the fact that Weiss’s footprint was pretty much stamped into the left arrow on the game pad, but there was more to it than that. A little bit had to do with the heightened amount of cursing, some had to do with the sheer amount of Schnee threats – and most of all, it had to do with the fact that Fox had given them a handicap unlike any other.

And with no small amount of glee, either.

“Fox.”

Weiss’s words cut through the noise of the bustling arcade around them, their corner of the room a great deal emptier than it had been minutes before (though that probably had something to do with the immediate departure of the Malachites feat. Junior’s goons). There was still a small crowd around them, but no one was waiting to play – the game machine was vacant, ready for the unfortunate duo that was about to occupy it. No, the small crowd had gathered to watch the events that were about to unfold, red solo cups replacing the usual cliché of popcorn.

“Fox,” Weiss repeated, her words flat, “Why are you holding a roll of duct tape?”

The grin that was sent her way did nothing to assuage Ruby’s growing concerns.

“Well,” Fox began, spinning the roll around his finger, “there is one small condition about playing this game.”

At the quizzical glares sent his way, or more the quizzical silence, he elaborated.

“The song you have to beat is single-player, not multi.”

Ruby froze, dawning comprehension creeping up her spine the same way brain freeze sprawls across ones mind. Weiss only frowned, before a jolt of surprise and realization shot across her face, alarm sparking in her eyes.

Her mouth opened to likely protest, but Ruby beat her to the punch.

“Don’t tell me,” the redhead began, before her words were cut off by a sudden burst of laughter.

Yatsuhashi frowned and shook his head, though the corners of his mouth upturned slightly at Fox’s clear enjoyment of the situation.

“Guess I don’t have to spell it out for them!” Fox exclaimed, looking all too much like the cat that ate the canary. It was probably the same canary that was used down in the mines, which meant that the duo’s last chance of sensing possible danger had just been taken out.

Fox held up the duct tape with his usual wicked grin, which Ruby found herself having become far too acclimated to in such a short amount of time. With a smirk that would have put half the villains in Vale to shame, he gave the roll a slight shake as he spoke.

“Ever tried to do a three legged race?”

The reactions were varied. Ruby gaped openly, Weiss raised a hand to her face, and half the crowd behind them broke into disbelieving laughter. It appeared that they didn’t think Fox was serious; Ruby and Weiss, on the other hand, were no longer so naïve.

As Fox grinned wildly, basking in their expressive reactions, Yatsuhashi frowned and tugged the duct tape from his hand in one smooth action. Ruby’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Weiss mirroring her expression – until the larger man held up a fistful of bandanas instead, and the brief hope they’d felt disappeared faster than Neptune at an Intellectual Intervention meeting.

So much for not being naïve.

Fox frowned, evidently confused by what was going on, before Yatsuhashi explained.

“Bandanas, not duct tape,” he said simply, Fox snapping his fingers in realization at his words.

“Of course – thanks for the correction, Yatsu!”

Fox grinned back at the women before him, speaking with a slightly sympathetic shrug.

“I voted for the duct tape, but Velvet pointed out that it would hurt too much to remove. So, you two get bandanas instead!”

“Thank you for your kind consideration,” Weiss retorted darkly, her tone almost as flat as the angle her eyebrows were currently at.

Fox brushed off her words with a wave of his hand, continuing on.

“Now that you two have gotten the gist of the evening’s events, we might as well get started!” he explained gleefully, before glancing in Yatsuhashi’s general direction, “Yatsu, if you would?”

The larger man moved into action, then, glancing at the pair of women before him. With his own small smile, he pointed a finger towards the game machine’s platform, lifting his eyebrows.

Ruby turned to Weiss, finding the white haired woman no longer scowling, but looking off into the distance with a peculiar expression. If she had been into scrapbooking, Ruby probably would have snapped a picture, then labelled it with the title “the exact moment Weiss’s soul ascended to another plane of existence.” But, seeing as that was not in one of her favoured hobbies, Ruby was content to simply tug on her side of the handcuffs, drawing her partner’s attention back to her.

“Weiss?” Ruby asked, worry fringing the edges of her words like lace on the aforementioned scrapbook photo, “are you okay?”

Weiss blinked, clearly caught off guard by the amount of concern in the redhead’s voice.

“Yes,” she spoke quickly, the words out of her mouth before she really had time to consider them fully, “I’m fine.”

Then she paused, glancing at Fox and Yatsuhashi – the former was whistling innocently, the latter watching the pair with slight apprehension – before she spoke again, her tone softening as a small smile worked itself across her features.

“I’m just thinking of how fun it’ll be to beat Fox’s expectations.”

This time it was Ruby’s turn to be caught off guard, silver eyes widening in surprise for a moment, before the redhead’s face crinkled into a grin, the woman giggling quietly.

“You’re right,” Ruby answered, before she grinned up at Weiss, the white haired woman returning the expression nearly in full, “Shall we go make it a reality?”

Weiss gave a short huff of laughter, closing her eyes as her brows rose in an expression of confidence.

“I believe such affairs are in order, yes,” she replied, a cyan eye opening to stare at her partner, “After all, we made it through Ren’s death challenge, so we might as well make it through this one, too.”

Ruby laughed, ignoring the fiery flashbacks that raced through her mind for a moment – some wounds were still too fresh to dwell upon.

“Absolutely!” she grinned, “No backing down, right?”

“No giving up,” Weiss shot back, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.

Ruby grinned wide, closing her eyes as she finished their banter.

“Because you’re a Schnee,” she began, unable to notice the way Weiss suddenly tense, the way Fox perked up in surprise and Yatsuhashi’s brow furrowed.

Then silver eyes popped open, a grin accompanying her final words.

“And a Schnee never quits!”

The words that Weiss had so vehemently stated before didn’t have the same effect when Ruby spoke them, people seeming startled more than they did inspired, as they had in the restaurant. Ruby didn’t notice, however, more caught up in the words she had just spoken.

“Seriously, Weiss, what does that even mean?”

Weiss blinked, cyan belaying genuine surprise.

“Er,” she began articulately, before manners rebooted her language skills, and she was able to respond in more than just caveman speak, “Family honour, I suppose.”

Ruby made a noise of understanding, sagely nodded as she tried to fold her arms, then tried passing off the sound of rattling handcuffs as having been completely intentional.

“We have something like that, too,” Ruby began, “or, well, my dad and sister do. Something about living up to the ‘Xiao-Long Family Motto.’”

Before Weiss’s curiosity could overrun her common sense and ask what exactly that family motto was, Fox interrupted their conversation and saved Weiss from needing a mental bar of soap.

“Are you two done flirting over there, or would you like another minute?”

The glares sent his way predictably had no effect on him, but it was surprising that the plate glass window behind him didn’t immediately shatter.

Yatsuhashi sighed heavily, shaking his head before he addressed the scowling pair.

“Are you two ready?”

Weiss sighed, lifting a hand in gesture with her words.

“As ready as we’re going to be, I suppose.”

There was a pause, until Yatsuhashi pointed out a notable flaw.

“You two should probably get on the platform before I tie on the bandanas,” he began, receiving confused looks from the pair, “I don’t think the jump up will exactly be easy with your legs tied together.”

A chuckle rose from the crowd around them, Weiss scowling once more as Ruby blushed slightly with the realization. They followed his suggestion, climbing onto the platform – which was far smaller than Ruby seemed to remember it being – receiving a round of applause from the group that had gathered to watch the show.

Yatsuhashi knelt to tie the bandanas, Ruby and Weiss shuffling awkwardly to press their legs together – the close quarters they had been in all night grew exponentially closer, blushes flaring across their cheeks as they muttered apologies to one another, trying to grow accustomed to their sudden proximity.

“Hang on a second.”

Yatsuhashi paused in his tying at Fox’s words, Ruby and Weiss both glancing at the man.

“Yatsu, keep tying,” the man elaborated, “Rose, cover your ears for a second.”

Ruby exchanged a confused glance with Weiss for a moment, but followed the order, covering her ears with her palms – Weiss’s arm was pulled along with the movement, but the white haired woman didn’t comment, her attention remaining on Fox.

The world around her was plunged into a cacophony of murmurs, individual words lost in the muffled sounds. Beside her, she saw Fox’s lips move – not that she’d ever been able to read lips; it had driven Yang insane when they were kids, as Ruby always read her words wrong (“Yang, why do you need a liposuction?” “I said let’s go to the _lipstick section_.”)

Whatever Fox had said, though, Weiss reacted to it with a jolt of surprise – it was only for a moment, but Ruby saw something like regret flit across the woman’s face, before it was replaced by a mask of indifference. Fox said something more, and shame painted itself across Weiss’s features – for a moment, Ruby was tempted to pull her hands away and comfort her partner, but in the next second Fox’s final words sparked surprise on the woman’s face. Then a smile worked its way across Weiss’s features, and she spoke a single phrase – Fox grinned widely at whatever it had been.

There was then a nudge to her shoulder – Ruby pulled her hands away, glancing at Weiss, only to find the woman smiling towards her.

“All good?” the redhead asked, silver eyes holding concern that matched her tone.

“All good,” Weiss repeated, before she frowned and glanced downwards, “Well, as good as things can be, in our current situation.”

Ruby glanced down at that, realizing exactly what Weiss meant – she’d completely forgotten about Yatsuhashi, too concerned with Weiss and the effects of the muted conversation.

The giant of a man had, however, finished tying the bandanas to their legs – they were, effectively, stuck together. Yatsuhashi himself had retreated back to Fox’s side, explaining to the trickster just how screwed the pair looked right now.

“You two ready to begin?” Fox asked, catching the attention of the pair, and half the people around him.

One more glance shot between the handcuffed duo – they were getting this down to a habit; one step further and they’d be ready for synchronized swimming – and then nods were sent in Fox’s direction.

Nods were, of course, entirely useless to a blind man, but Yatsuhashi saved them from embarrassment by clapping his friend on the shoulder in lieu of a verbal reply.

“Alrighty then!” came the elated reply, the redheaded man rubbing his hands together in a suitably fitting villain’s reaction, “Rose, you know how to work the machine – and I know you know what song it is. Get to it!”

His last words were accompanied by a bit of cheering from the crowd – drunken as they were, they knew an impending disaster when they saw one. Ruby sighed, then turned to Weiss – at least, as much as their connected legs would allow. Hip joints only rotated so far.

“So, how do you want to do this?” she began, Weiss glancing at her in confusion.

“I mean, uh…” Ruby delved off into a series of rapid and alarming hand gestures, many of which looked highly suggestive, especially when taking into account her earlier commentary in the women’s bathroom. It was a really good thing Fox couldn’t see them, or else the redhead likely would have never lived it down.

Weiss, however, thankfully got the message in the first ten seconds of flailing arms, interjecting Ruby’s gestures with a question.

“How do I want to play the game?” she asked, Ruby dropping her hands and nodding in confirmation.

“Yeah,” Ruby affirmed, “you’ve never played the game before, right?”

“Never played it, but I do understand the gist of it,” Weiss explained, “You just have to stomp the buttons in time to the music, correct?”

“According to what shows up on the screen,” Ruby finished, “which is hard enough when it’s just you doing it. Bring in two people trying to do it together, and, well…”

“It becomes that much harder,” Weiss ended her trailed off sentence for her, before she glanced at their feet, “Why don’t we stick to the logical way of doing this? I’ll cover the left arrow, you cover the right, and we’ll do the middle ones together.”

Had either of them been paying attention, they would have heard Fox’s snickers from the background, and realized that it wouldn’t be that simple – but, tragically, neither woman caught the sound.

Ruby nodded in agreement at Weiss’s suggestion – it sounded logical enough. With one, final glance to the white haired woman, the pair oriented themselves on the game pad, facing the screen with a skewed sort of determination, the type that usually accompanied a person making it through a bad time.

Someone cleared their throat beside them, breaking their momentary concentration – Yatsuhashi had materialized beside them, holding out a massive palm towards them.

“You’ll probably need these,” he explained – they glanced down at his hand, finding in it several game tokens.

“And don’t worry!”

Fox’s voice carried from behind them with the rattling of metal – turning to look behind them revealed the man shaking a large cup, filled to the brim with more tokens.

“We’re not going to run out any time soon!”

Weiss scowled, reaching across Ruby to grab hold of the proffered tokens. She slipped them into the machine’s slot one by one, until the game let out a happy chime, and the opening music started up.

A cheer rose from the ever growing crowd; Ruby took a deep breath, Weiss beside her frowning at the bright graphics that splashed their way across the screen in a sudden flash of pixels.

With an impressive use of only her right foot, Ruby slowly manoeuvred them through the menu, jumping into single-player, and from there the notably long list of songs that spanned out before them. With no small amount of effort or back stomps, Ruby pulled them down the songs, until they finally reached the “T” section of the alphabetized list.

With a few more stomps, they finally settled on the song she’d been looking for – the infamous song that would no doubt give them more trouble than hitting the high notes in ABBA songs. Weiss’s brow furrowed as she leaned forwards slightly, reading the title aloud.

“Time to Say Goodbye?” she recited, earning laughter from the few folks around them who hadn’t yet caught up on the current situation.

Ruby winced, Yatsuhashi smiled, and Fox grinned wide enough to fit an entire orange slice in his mouth.

“That’s the one,” Ruby affirmed, “it’s… tough to beat.”

When Weiss glanced at her for further explanation, she elaborated, but without the obscene hand gestures this time.

“It’s mostly just the guitar parts that give you trouble – the instrumental chorus thingy isn’t so bad, but the verses? They’re full of, like, _nyang-nah-nah-nyang._ And even if those aren’t so bad, there’s this really slow part – and that’s easy – but it’s followed by this insane guitar solo that’s like _bwaaaang-_ ”

“Sound effects aren’t exactly helping, Ruby,” Weiss interrupted, her face just barely disguising her expression of incredible offence.

“Oh,” the redhead finished sheepishly, before she cleared her throat and persevered on, “w-well, you get the idea. Easy, then hard, then _insanely_ hard.”

“I have gathered that, yes,” Weiss agreed, before she gestured with a nod towards the screen, “but we won’t truly know how bad it is unless we give it a shot, right?”

Ruby nodded with a determined smile, ignoring the titters that rose from the crowd listening in.

“Agreed,” she replied, facing the screen and straightening up slightly, “let’s do this!”

With that, she stomped on the right arrow, and the screen flashed in confirmation, before it went dark. A moment later, it faded back on, this time with a row of arrows at the top, score and health meters, and an obnoxiously bright background.

They took it in for a moment – then the song began.

With an opening drum roll, the words began to play – and the arrows began to rise up onto the screen, left and right symbols scrolling up towards the top.

Ruby yelped in surprise, Weiss’s eyebrows raising as well – then they moved into motion, attempting to hit their respective arrows in time.

It did not go well, at first. They quickly discovered why this wasn’t a particularly popular form of play – though their connected feet were able to stay on the ground, they couldn’t lean their weight on them the same, which meant that almost immediately, their balance was shot.

Weiss made a noise of surprise as Ruby’s weight suddenly fell on her, causing the woman to stomp down heavily on her free foot – the machine made a noise of error, prompting a giggle from Fox, who was delightedly hearing their failures.

“Ruby–” she began, only to be cut off by a round of panicked apologies from her partner, who leaned onto her own free foot. Weiss then performed the same mistake, nearly sending the pair sprawling as she shifted her own weight into Ruby’s side.

This continued on for a good fifteen seconds, the pair warring with their weight as they slowly found a balance. The music increased in volume and instruments – this went unnoticed by the preoccupied pair, but not by the rest of the watching crowd. Giggles of anticipation rose up – and just as Ruby and Weiss found some kind of matching rhythm, the song tipped over into the chorus.

The guitar began, and so did the middle and back arrows.

_“Shit!”_

Ruby’s expletive shot out over the music as she and Weiss nearly toppled over, missing several arrows in their panic. With another curse – muttered under her breath, this time – Ruby shot a frenzied glance to her partner.

“Ready to try it out?”

“What?”

Ruby completely ignored Weiss’s squawk of surprise, turning her attention back to the screen.

“On three!” the redhead cried, Weiss having no time to protest, “One, two…”

“Ruby, wait–”

“ _Three!_ ”

With no choice but to follow through with the action, Weiss joined Ruby as they tried to press the arrow in time – it quickly became clear that any balance they’d still had had just been thrown out the nearest window. Which was twelve stories up. And had a concrete ground waiting below.

In other words, their last chance at retaining any semblance of dignity had just departed on an express train.

With screeches of surprise, the women slid forwards as the combined weight of their moving leg threw them off balance – they completely missed the arrow pad, the game announcing their errors to a cackling Fox, who decided to give them a helpful pointer.

“The bars! Use the bars, Luke!”

As Weiss helped stagger them back into a sort-of-standing position, Ruby glanced behind her, realizing that the large painted bars behind them were _supposed_ to be used to balance. Immediately, she threw her arms back to grab a hold of it, feeling the bright red paint flake onto her palms. Still, it shifted the balance from her tied leg – Weiss nearly stumbled again, thrown off by the newest change in balance.

Then the white haired woman also took note of the bar, reaching behind her to do the same as Ruby – her cuffed hand was already halfway to the bar – before they realized that the bar wasn’t quite meant for two. Weiss’s hand landed on top of Ruby’s, cool skin meeting warm, a wolf whistle erupting from Fox, a blush erupting onto Ruby’s cheeks.

Before she could mull much longer over the embarrassment, however, the song reached its chorus, and all hell broke loose on screen. Arrows flashed left and right, up and down – with yelps and curses in surprise, the pair did their best to keep up – they missed half the arrows, but at least their balance issues had been partially solved. They still could barely get the middle arrows, and coordination was still an issue, but at least they weren’t tripping over one another anymore.

The song continued on, launching into the second verse, then a repeat of the chorus – until they finally reached the slow section, a series of simple holds. Weiss, painting from a shortage of breath, glanced her partner’s way.

“That was the hard part, right?”

Ruby glanced at her with wide silver eyes, but before she could counter, the volume of the laughter from the crowd answered Weiss’s question. Clearly, that hadn’t been the hard part.

Then the song tipped into its infamous guitar solo, and Weiss understood perfectly.

Forty-three seconds, seven curse words, and an innumerable amount of arrows later, the last note finally faded out, and the song came to a close. Weiss all but collapsed against the bar as applause rang out from the crowd – then, predictably, a ‘FAIL’ burst across the screen. Ruby groaned, her head lolling back as she audibly complained about their outcome.

Fox cackled in the background – and the expression on Weiss’s face shifted from one of defeat, to one of absolute determination. There was also a bit of madness thrown into the mix, but no one dared to mention it.

With a rise fully to her feet – and a heaving of chest as she desperately tried to regain her breath – Weiss glanced down at Ruby, brows furrowed over steely cyan eyes.

“Again?” she asked, though it was more of a command than a question.

Ruby kept eye contact for a moment, before she exhaled loudly and grinned.

“Again.”

And so, with a round of supportive applause from their audience, they attempted the song again.

And again.

And _again_.

By the time the fourth song came to a close, Weiss was nearly as red as she had been while slurping down the spicy noodles, and Ruby was pretty positive she was going to need a lung transplant by the end of the night. Four attempts later, and they were still flashing the “fail” sign, with no chance of even nearing the leaderboard.

As the pair regained their breath, a quiet ‘ahem’ came from beside them once more – Yatsuhashi stood next to the platform again, concern furrowing his brows.

“Are you two alright?” he asked, his words low and worried. Ruby flashed a thumbs up, though the way her arm trembled didn’t exactly add to the convincing factor of the gesture.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want you to get too tired for the rest of your date!” added Fox from somewhere behind them. This time it was Weiss’s turn for a hand gesture, lifted high into the air – though hers had less politeness to it, and more to do with a certain finger.

Yatsuhashi blinked, raising an eyebrow at the white themed woman.

“You know he can’t see that, right?”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Weiss retorted, just as Fox burst into another round of cackles.

“She’s giving me the finger, isn’t she?” he asked, though he didn’t wait for anyone to reply before continuing speaking, “whatever happened to acting like a ‘proper lady,’ Weiss?”

“Proper ladies can use improper hand gestures,” Weiss responded flatly, “the same way they can swear, before you ask about that too.”

She paused, looking contemplative.

“I enunciate them, like a fucking lady.”

Fox laughed loudly, Yatsuhashi smiling at her somehow surviving sense of humour. Ruby giggled as well, before she turned back to the man at their side.

“Really though, Yatsu, we’re okay. Just wish there was some way to get coordinated easier, is all.”

Yatsuhashi hummed in thought, as he held out his hand once more, revealing another round of game tokens. Weiss took them as he suddenly started with a realization, smiling slightly. Gesturing for them to move closer with a massive hand, he leaned in as well, whispering to the pair.

“You know, there is a way,” he revealed, “Fox just hates it. We’ve gotten him to play the game before – but the only way he can do it is using a song that literally tells him what to do.”

“There’s a song like that?” Ruby burst out, before Yatsuhashi held a finger to his lips, gesturing towards Fox with his head.

“Don’t let him hear you,” the gentle giant continued, “but yes, there is a song like that. Just go to the C section – you’ll know which one it is once you see it. Use that to get your coordination together before you go back to the main song.”

With that, he backed away, having filled his word quota for the evening.

Ruby glanced back at Weiss, lifting an eyebrow in question.

“Want to give it a shot?”

Weiss shrugged indifferently.

“We don’t have much else left to lose.”

“Our dignity?”

“We lost that on the first try, Ruby.”

Yatsuhashi, meanwhile, had found his way back to Fox’s side, the redhaired man giving him a quizzical look.

“What advice did you offer them?” he asked, brows furrowing over milky eyes.

“Nothing,” Yatsuhashi said simply, Fox narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“There’s no way you were over there that long for ‘nothing,’” he countered, “What did you tell –”

Then a beat began emanating through the speakers, indicating the start of a different song. Fox paled significantly, memories returning to him at the sound of the beat. He whirled to face Yatsuhashi fully, brows furrowed in surprise.

“You didn’t–”

_“This is something new – the Casper Slide part two.”_

Fox’s groan was audible to the entire crowd – up on the platform, Weiss and Ruby both grinned. Revenge was best served unexpected, after all.

The music continued on, instructions relayed along a funky beat with a clear voice. A voice that sounded very excited to have them cha cha real smooth, but a clear voice that was easy to follow.

The crowd cheered with approval, some even beginning to follow along with the movements – they went through left steps, back steps, left and right stomps. They paused when they reached the hops – with a great deal of effort, they figured out how to jump together, though the landing was a bit precarious. But they managed, even if twisted ankles were staring them in the face for a good solid moment.

Then they reached the ‘Cha Cha Real Smooth,’ and Weiss’s façade of being able to dance was shattered.

Standing stock still on the dance pad, Weiss gestured to the screen, a look of vague offence across her features.

“What is that even supposed to mean?” she asked darkly, Ruby looking at her in brief confusion, “What kind of instruction is ‘Cha Cha Real Smooth?’ Is it some kind of dance move I don’t know?”

Ruby stopped dead in her motions, her mouth gaping open in surprise. Weiss paused, looking uneasy at her reaction.

“What?”

Ruby stared for a moment longer, before she closed her mouth and shook her head, smiling in disbelief.

“Weiss,” she began awefully, the woman in question looking at her in confusion, “you really _are_ white.”

“And just what is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Ruby froze up, the same way a deer in the headlights would. Laughter from the few who had overheard them didn’t help matters any.

“Er…” she trailed off, then shrugged, “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about them.”

Weiss side-eyed her suspiciously, but turned her attention back to the screen. Not enough attention, however, that she missed the words that Ruby mumbled under her breath.

“Teeth so white they can’t dance.”

“Hey!”

Before Weiss could enact her revenge for the comment, the music announced a command that neither woman had any idea how to follow through on.

“How the hell are we supposed to ‘criss-cross?!’”

“Uh – I’ll hit up, you hit down!”

Weiss followed Ruby’s suggestion, and the action actually turned out to be some sort of success – even one that mimicked a semblance of coordination.

A round of impressed applause followed the move, the crowd clapping and cheering as their coordination only continued to improve. Between slides, criss crosses, and several awkward ‘cha cha real smooths,’ the pair continued with the song, Fox continuing in the background with his agonized groans.

By the time the song ended, they’d discovered that Ruby couldn’t go any lower to the floor than past her knees, neither had any idea what to do when ‘reverse’ came up, and, most importantly, they finally had some sense of coordination with one another.

The crowd that had gathered around them by this point was at least half the arcade, who had been dancing and clapping along throughout the song. A round of cheering went up when the song finished, Ruby and Weiss exchanging a glance with one another, trading confident smiles before the former spoke.

“Ready for round two?”

Weiss smiled wider than Ruby had seen her do before.

“Never been more ready.”

Ruby grinned, stomping on the pad to bring them back to their fated song.

“Then let’s do this!”

With one, final stomp, they loaded the song once more – a familiar drumroll emanated from the speakers, followed by now-familiar lyrics.

_“There’s a point where it tips, there’s a point where it breaks…”_

Fox listened, Yatsuhashi watched, and Ruby and Weiss powered through the entire song, managing to nail the entire slow section, with a half-decent attempt at the rest of the song. For the first time that night, ‘fail’ didn’t appear at the end of the game – instead, a ‘Clear!’ flashed across the screen instead, though no leaderboard followed it.

Still, it wasn’t a fail – and that was enough to have Weiss flashing a glance at Ruby, who nodded and hit ‘try again.’

And so they tried again.

And again.

And _again_.

By the time the fourth round of the song ended, they were both incredibly sick of the song, and their score was almost high enough to beat the lowest score on the leaderboard. Fox was watching in a sort of shock, Yatsuhashi smiling like some kind of proud uncle.

The crowd that had gathered had not only increased in size, but also in drunkness, leading to a kind of wildly supportive audience. They cheered loudly as Ruby hit ‘try again,’ one more time, the opening notes blaring from the speakers, the crowd even signing along to the notes they could reach, and even the ones they couldn’t.

The first verse shot by, with no arrows missed – the second had nearly the same result. By the time the chorus made its way around, the crowd was howling along to the song, and Weiss and Ruby were even hitting combos, for the third time that evening.

They kept going, making it through the second verse set, then the second chorus – and they nailed the slow part, long holds a breeze for them by that point. As the last, leisurely notes of the slow bridge faded out, the duo exchanged a glance – one filled with determination, not worry.

The guitar leapt into its solo, and the women leapt into action. To be fair, they missed nearly all of the arrows, but the few they hit felt like gold medals in comparison to their previous attempts. The crowd cheered with every arrow they hit – it was almost familiar, having a crowd that celebrated their attempts. It was also the exact opposite of Yang and Blake, who were having a crowd that attacked them for their attempts.

The guitar solo faded out, and the last chorus burst into action – then, with a sense of finality, even it ended, and the song was officially over. A familiar “Clear!” popped up on the screen – then, at long last, the leaderboard flashed across the screen, the tenth place flashing with a keyboard below.

The place lost it. The crowd broke into unbridled cheering and hollering, Fox laughed and threw his arms up in triumph, Yatsuhashi smiled and clapped politely. On Ruby and Weiss’s part, they cheered just as loudly, their emotions and relief getting the better of them for a moment.

As the applause slowly began fading out, Ruby raised her fist, waiting for a celebratory fist bump. Weiss looked at it for a brief moment, eyebrows furrowing slightly – then she raised her own hand, and high fived Ruby’s waiting fist.

There was a brief silence between the pair, as Ruby took in this new information.

“We’ll work on that.”

With that, the redhead turned her attention back to the screen, and the waiting keyboard. “N.E.O.” was written into the current tenth place position – “O.U.M.” filled every one above that.

“Well then,” Ruby began, drawing Weiss’s attention back to her, “what should our awesome, three letter entry be?”

Weiss paused, pursing her lips as she thought far too seriously on the question.

“Ice,” she decided finally, earning herself a flat stare from Ruby.

“Weiss, that’s lame,” she retorted, causing her partner to look genuinely insulted.

“That’s not lame!” the white haired woman protested, “All Schnees have a name that has to do with–”

“How about ‘ant?’”

“… Why on earth would we make our entry ‘ant?’”

“I don’t know, I’m just trying to think up three letter words. How do you feel about ‘dog?’”

“In that case, why don’t we just stick with ‘ice?’”

“Because it’s lame!”

“And ‘dog’ is so much better?”

“Hey, are you insulting dogs?”

“What? No, I’m just–Ugh, Ruby, we are not using ‘dog!’”

“Ahem.”

The pair turned to the source of the cleared throat, finding Fox and Yatsuhashi beside them.

“How about ‘bad?’” Fox suggested, grinning as per the norm, “You know, ‘cause you two are _badass!”_

All that was missing were the firing finger pistols.

Weiss stared at him in disgust, Ruby frozen in silence as she contemplated the suggestion, then–

“AWESOOOOOOOME!”

Ruby’s yell startled Weiss greatly, the woman jumping in surprise. Fox giggled at the sight; Yatsuhashi reached out a tentative hand to keep her from falling off the platform. Weiss nodded in gratitude, then shot a glance at her partner.

“Seriously, Ruby? You’ll accept ‘bad’ for badass, but not _ice?_ ”

Fox leaned over the balance bar, grinning widely.

“ _Ice_ for the _ice queen?”_

Weiss’s expression changed, all traces of disgust and surprise wiped away into a blank state. Ruby blinked in surprise, before she jumped as Weiss suddenly spoke.

“Ruby.”

“Uh, yes?”

“… Make the name ‘bad.’”

Ruby blinked, then nodded, grinning as she turned back to the screen.

With awkward feet coordination – one was still, after all, attached to Weiss – she slowly typed in ‘B,’ then ‘A.’ Then she messed up, and hit ‘finished’ before she managed to enter the last letter.

“Ruby.”

The woman in question winced, knowing exactly what was coming.

“Did you just name us _B.A.A.?!”_

Fox burst into another round of laughter – even Yatsuhashi chuckled, his quiet, calm, collected demeanour taking all it could for the evening. Ruby grinned sheepishly, shrugging her shoulders slightly.

“Oops?”

Weiss point blank stared at her for a good ten seconds, then she sighed heavily, closing her eyes and shaking her head. For a moment, worry filled Ruby – then she saw the corners of Weiss’s mouth perk up slightly in something of a smile.

“B.A.A. it is,” the white haired woman relented, before she glanced at the screen. Indeed, before them on the screen was the newly updated leaderboard – ‘O.U.M.’ times nine… and ‘B.A.A.’ lingering down below.

“Well done,” came the comment from beside them, Fox’s smile having lessened in its wickedness, and leaning more towards an actually friendly smile, “I honestly didn’t think you two would succeed.”

“Wanting to hear you say that helped,” Weiss admitted, earning herself a laugh from both Fox and Yatsuhashi. The former grinned, shaking his head, before he glanced up at the latter.

“Yatsu?”

The man in question smiled, then knelt down to untie the bandanas around their legs. A minute later, the ties had been removed – Ruby and Weiss both nearly fell over, with their balance suddenly changed back to a single person’s weight.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Ruby moaned, reaching down to rub her leg, “I thought I was going to lose circulation forever.”

Weiss frowned, Fox smiled.

“Glad to hear you didn’t, little Rose,” he commented, “that would mean we’d have to get you to a hospital, and you wouldn’t get to attempt the second challenge!”

Both women froze on the spot.

“Second… challenge?” Ruby repeated, her words caught somewhere in the emotional range of ‘what’ to ‘oh god please no.’

Fox, predictably, laughed at her expressive tone.

“What, did you two forget? You had two challenges here – one from Yatsu, one from me!”

“Seriously, Fox?” Weiss interjected, her voice risen higher with anger, “’Dance Dance Humiliation’ wasn’t enough for you?”

“Oh, it was plenty for me,” Fox explained heartily, “but I am under strict orders to make sure that you two follow the next challenge, as well.”

Both Ruby and Weiss groaned, words beyond them at this point.

“Don’t worry,” Fox reassured them with a tone that wasn’t reassuring at all, “The next challenge isn’t as bad as this one, if that’s any consolation.”

“It isn’t,” came the dual reply. Yatsuhashi smiled, before he interjected his own commentary.

“You’ll do fine,” he reassured, in a far more reassuring tone than Fox, “After all, you made it through this challenge.”

He gestured to the machine and the platform they were still standing on; the pair of women glanced at it, Weiss sighing before she spoke.

“Yes,” she replied, “we’re always going to be remembered as having made absolute fools of ourselves on this game.”

“Yeah!” Fox confirmed, which did absolutely nothing to assuage their regrets, “You’ll forever be the heroes that earned tenth spot with your legs tied together.”

“More than heroes,” Yatsuhashi added, “I’d say ‘legends’ works better.”

Fox laughed, agreeing, before he started making his way through the crowd that was starting to dissipate, some clapping Ruby and Weiss on the shoulder in congratulations. The pair then followed him slowly, Yatsuhashi bringing up the rear, Fox in the front yelling ‘blind man, get out of the way!’

All the while, Ruby thought about their last words, with one last glance back towards the game machine.

What had it been, again? Oh, right.

Something about heroes getting remembered – and legends never dying.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point in your life, if you haven't already, you should dance along to the 'Cha Cha Real Smooth' song. Go look it up. There's nothing quite like performing it alongside a bunch of friends. That, and if you've never seen The Sandlot, do yourself a favour and watch it. Make Lindsay Jones proud.
> 
> On another note, no update for a while - you gasp in surprise! - I'm in the midst of finals, so the next two weeks will be devoted to university and the joys that come with it. Then will be break, though, so we'll have some nice Christmas updates. It involves a police chase. Look forwards to it!


	16. Fires and Frying Pans

Qrow had once told his eldest niece that you could tell a lot like a person by the way they reacted to hearing a police siren. Yang didn’t take it seriously for a long time – in her defense, most of the high school parties she went never really warranted visits from the cops – until university and alcohol brought on a dangerous combination of dares and drunken bravados. Once tequila began making regular appearances amongst their prank challenges, sirens at their gatherings became a lot more common.

Around the same time that picking handcuffs wormed its way into Yang’s repertoire, Qrow’s advice resurfaced in her mind, and she began paying attention to sirens and the reactions they inspired. Most of her friends seemed indifferent to them – Ruby and Nora still belonged in the category of ‘fifth-grader,’ giggling and nudging shoulders when sirens raced by, whispering quips like “they’re after you, Yang,” and “what did you do now?” and “do you think they found the bathtub yet?”

Well, Yang had to admit, the last one had really only happened the one time (but then again, it only took one call to the cops to report a missing bathtub for it to become an inside joke).

Still, sirens and their simultaneous reactions had turned from a Qrow rambling to a regular notice of Yang’s, the blonde deriving both amusement and assumptions from them. Pyrrha immediately checked her phone for alerts, Ren and Neptune would cast curious glances out the nearest window, and Sun – well, Sun would freeze up at any sign of authority including, at one point, a kid with a false cop badge. Of course, Sun had been in the holding cell enough times that he practically had a reserved seat, so it was a warranted reaction.

Yang, out of them all, reacted almost as much as Sun (though she didn’t mutter ‘please, not Officer McDouche’ under her breath). Years of drunken parties, law-bending pranks, and the occasional backroads race had led her to a first-name basis with a couple of cops on the squad, and a rather antagonistic relationship with the Captain of the force. And though Pyrrha had always protected her in her times of fighting, she still could never shake the unease when seeing cops hanging around bars and warehouses.

All in all, Yang had a pretty understandable reaction to hearing a siren nearing the corner. Whether or not she’d done anything, her shoulders would stiffen, and she’d automatically glance to the nearest escape route if she was in an enclosed space. And as the sirens split the air in front of Junior’s like the crack of a whip, or a fart in a silent exam room, it seemed to Yang that this time would be no different.

As always, she froze up, legs tensing in preparation to race off, arms rising slightly in defense. Lilac eyes swept to the direction of the sound, face frozen in a mask of anticipation. For a moment, she stayed still – then her glance went back to Blake, and Yang realized that this wasn’t like the other times at all.

Qrow had said that a lot could be read in the reactions to a siren – and for the first time, Yang had found someone whose reaction told a lot more than her own.

Blake was completely still – in some drunken part of Yang’s mind, the thought of a greek statue arose to the surface – amber eyes widened slightly, her face having paled slightly. Yang’s tension melted away into confusion and curiosity as she stared at her partner, Blake’s own gaze fixed behind her in the direction of the sirens. There was a pause, silence aside from the approaching alarms, Yang staring at Blake intently – had her bow just twitched? – before she broke it with a single word.

“…Blake?”

The dark haired woman startled as though she’d completely forgotten Yang was there, amber blinking before falling on the blonde. Confused lilac stared back at wide-eyed gold, the contact lasting for a good second before Blake whirled around, Yang feeling a tug on the handcuffs a moment later.

“Come on!”

Blake all but barked the word, half-leading, half-dragging Yang behind her as she raced away from the front of the club into the dark alley off to the side.

“Blake, what–”

“Keep quiet!”

The pair stumbled into the darkness, the sound of the sirens in the distance only continuing to grow in volume. Yang blinked, trying to adjust to the sudden gloom, Blake already attuned to the lack of light. Shaking her head and sending blonde locks into a cascade of gold, Yang stared into the dark, focusing on the vague shape that she assumed to be Blake. That, or Junior’s dumpster had been seriously modified.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, her words hissed sharply, “We didn’t do anything wrong!”

There was a stark silence, where Yang could only assume Blake was giving her one of the flat glares she’d become so accustomed to over the course of the evening.

“Yang.”

Yup, she was definitely glaring, if the monotone voice was anything to go by.

“You lit the bar on fire, _again_.”

“Hey! I lit _limes_ , and they’re now buried under so much fireproof foam that they might as well be the lost city of At-lime-tas.”

Another silence, and very likely – and very understandably – another glare.

“You started a bar fight, _also again_.”

“Okay, but–“

“ _With Tom Jones, again!”_

“There is no law that says you cannot instigate altercations with the sweet melodious sound of Mr. Jones!”

“No, but there is a law against starting any kind of altercation!”

Blake’s last line echoed throughout the alley, their voices having risen throughout the exchange – they both froze, listening for the sound of anyone else entering the alley. Nothing came, though the sirens continued to blare behind them.

Yang scowled, crossing her arms as much as the handcuffs would allow as she stared back towards Blake’s silhouette.

“Fine, but we didn’t throw the first punch, which means we didn’t officially start the fight – and they can hardly arrest us for playing Tom Jones.”

She paused, frowning thoughtfully.

“Although, I’m pretty sure Pyrrha’s passed around the story of the first fight enough at headquarters that it’s something of an urban legend…”

Yang shook her head, dislodging the trailing thoughts. The motion made her incredibly dizzy, and the finger she pointed to accentuate her next point missed by several inches.

“Look, Blake, I don’t like cops much – but I do know that hiding in this alley is _not_ gonna help us out any. They’ll probably head on in to arrest people anyways, and if they come around here to try and block off the back door, then we’re going to look miiiighty suspicious. Like, random suitcase on train platform suspicious. Cat who at the canary suspicious. Smirking child when you randomly smell a fart–”

“I get it, Yang,” Blake cut her off, her form oddly still. Yang squinted into the darkness, trying to make out the expression on her partner’s face – apprehension? Unease? It was hard to tell, like an hieroglyph buried beneath layers of sand.

There was a pause, Yang making the most intense face Blake had seen all evening, the dark haired woman herself staring at the ground as she silently debated with herself. After a moment, she glanced up at Yang, briefly startling at the look on the blonde’s face (it looked something like needing to sneeze, with the concentration of extreme constipation).

“Yang,” Blake began, pressing past her momentary confusion and concern, Yang’s expression clearing as she blinked in surprise at her name, “I –”

There was a loud clattering from behind them, blonde tilting and brunette whirling around to see what had caused the commotion. The back door to the club had slammed open, metal clashing against brick as it swung out. A large, lumbering man stumbled out of the doorway, his dark suit and red tie stained with what looked alarmingly like blood.

The man straightened up, glancing towards the end of the alley – it was then that he noticed the pair standing before him, their faces illuminated by the light streaming from inside. He froze, and Blake felt Yang do the same beside her – the moment stretched out, a pause where no one moved, or even seemed to breathe. Then–

“Junior!”

“Blondie!”

Yang’s voice overlapped with the man’s – Junior? – one yelled in angry trepidation, the other with a threatening form of excitement. They paused again at having cut one another off, Yang grinning fiendishly at Junior, the man himself staring wide-eyed at Yang in shock and faint outrage.

Blake, on the other hand, was caught fantastically in the middle with no clue as to what was going on; the proverbial crossfire, with a dash of stranded surprise. Shaken, not stirred, and served with no ice.

Junior made a noise of anger, shaking Blake from her reverie of realistic drink recipes (though, for standing outside a club, they were rather fitting). He pointed a thick finger at Yang – both women noticed the blood adorning his knuckles – and swore loudly, with no respect for the stealth they had been trying to keep.

“I should have known!” he growled, his voice deep and rough with anger, “the moment I was informed the bar was on fire, I knew you’d made it into the club – I should have been prepared for the Tom Jones apocalypse.”

Blake interrupted him, amber peering disparagingly at the burly man.

“Why do you even have that song on the jukebox still?”

Junior froze, his finger left stranded in midair like a shipwrecked castaway. Sudden realization worked its way across his features, mixing into an ugly combination with the anger still occupying the space.

Yang laughed at his painful introspection, the sound rich and full as it bounced off the alley walls. She slapped her hip as the sound petered into giggles, pretending to wipe away a tear as she glanced back up at Junior.

“I can’t believe you didn’t think of that,” she stated, pouring the entire metaphorical salt shaker into his open wound, “ _How_ did you not think of that?”

Junior growled in exasperation, opening his mouth to retaliate – Yang didn’t give him the chance, moving the conversation along on her own before it could spring into a full-blown argument.

“Aaaaanyways, Junior,” she drawled, grinning impishly at the man, “I’m really glad you showed your face.”

Both Blake and Junior glanced at her in confusion, the complete lack of reasons to be happy in their situation apparently not registering with the blonde. Yang, ever true to herself, grinned on anyways.

“You might have noticed,” the blonde continued, jerking a thumb haphazardly behind her, “that we’re in a spot of trouble!”

Junior eyed her suspiciously, the expression on his face only describable through the word ‘duh.’ Blake looked nonplussed, with a side dish of tolerance, overly done.

Yang continued onwards, completely unperturbed by their reactions. She gestured behind them with her free hand, grinning wide.

“You might say,” she began, “that we’re out of the frying pan, and into the fire.”

She paused dramatically.

“And by fire, I mean hell itself.”

“Not quite sure we’re at that level of risk,” Blake muttered, but her comment went unnoticed – or completely ignored – by her blonde partner.

“Club filled with fighting patrons and fire foam to our right, cops about to come pouring in behind us…”

Yang trailed off, taking a moment to check in that yes, the cops were on their way. As they had been for the last five minutes, their sirens seeming no louder than they had before.

For a moment, the three stood in silence, listening to the sounds of alarms blaring off in the distance, as though suspended in some sort of limbo.

“… How long does it take for a squadron to cross three blocks?”

Junior snorted at Blake’s query, answering with his own input.

“And the cops wonder why people complain about their response time.”

“No kidding, it’s like they stopped for a red light.”

“Wait, cops can–”

“That was the joke, Yang.”

Before the witty banter could continue, Yang yelped in surprise as her phone chimed in her pocket. She reached behind her, pulling the device from her back pocket – she fumbled it a moment later, nearly dropping it to the floor.

Blake intervened, catching the phone before it could meet a shattered demise. Yang reached for it, but her partner pulled her hand out of reach of the grabbing fingers.

“No, you have about the reading ability of a two-year-old right now–”

Blake’s voice cut off as she took in the message displayed on Yang’s – already cracked – screen, the name ‘P-Drizzle’ doing very little for her. The words below the nickname, however, were of much greater importance.

Yang saw her sudden lapse into silence as a grand opportunity, snagging the phone from her grip with a triumphant ‘ha!’

“Okay, let’s see what Pyrrha has to–”

The blonde’s words cut off, tanned skin going pale for the countless time that evening. Junior took in both their reactions with a great deal of apprehension, thick brows furrowing as both women went incredibly still.

“What the hell did she send you?”

Neither of the handcuffed pair replied, instead turning to one another and sharing a panicked glance. In Yang’s scarred hand, the message read loud and clear before the screen faded to black. Ominous, considering the message’s single word: _RUN._

For a moment, the alley was frozen – Junior perked up, his face changing slowly to one of horror as he listened to the noise that had been present for their entire conversation.

“Are the sirens… getting louder?”

A pause, neither woman looking at him. Junior paled at the second recognition.

“Wait, are they… are they _multiplying?”_

The resounding silence only allowed from complete affirmation of his question, and complete understanding of his reaction.

“ _What the hell did you two do?!”_

At this, the pair returned from motionless mime mode, Blake startling with an expression of shell-shocked pondering, Yang frowning and replying to the man.

“Nothing!” she barked back, “I’m not sure why–”

“Headquarters.”

Yang stumbled over her words at Blake’s quiet interruption, turning to glance at the dark haired woman in surprise.

“What?”

The blonde and Junior spoke in unison, both looking at Blake with a mix of confusion and concern.

“Headquarters,” she repeated, before understanding amber bored into bewildered lilac.

“Yang, you said Pyrrha told the entire headquarters about your stunt.”

“Well, yeah, but that was–”

“As in, the _police headquarters?_ ”

Furrowed brows lifted as confusion gave way to insight, lilac belaying understanding – then a moment later, full realization. Blake didn’t give her the chance to complete the thought on her own, continuing on even as Yang opened her mouth.

“Yang, what did Pyrrha _do?_ ”

No response came from the blonde. Junior stared back and forth between them hard enough to give himself visual whiplash, trying to find the connection he was missing that the other two had.

“Who’s Pyrrha?” he interjected, “What in Dust’s name are you two talking about?”

Blake turned to answer him, Yang lost in thought. The distant wails of sirens coupled with a debilitating realization tended to do that to her. Pyrrha dressed in her now-very-memorable police uniform came to mind, the blonde only now pulling her friend’s career choice from her fairly inebriated memory.

Of course Pyrrha had something to do with this – the sirens were a little too coincidental, and Yang hadn’t known the police to react that quickly to a public fight since it was at the donut shop on third. How the redhead had managed to pull what sounded like the entire squad into this mess, Yang didn’t know, but she wouldn’t put it past the woman. Pyrrha was dangerous like that.

Junior and Blake were rapidly talking beside her, their voices filled with panic and desperate planning – Yang tuned them out, her mind echoing with the old phrase ‘the calm before the storm.’ Her father had used it to describe her temper, her uncle for puberty, and at this point she was pretty much fed up with the phrase.

Still, there were some circumstances that deserved the expression the same way a hangover deserved a good glass of water – and at the moment, in their current predicament, Yang couldn’t help but feel the phrase cross her mind. The sound of sirens had a way of bringing introspective thoughts with them, the same way the prospect of a being lowered into a bear’s den would bring thoughts of dodging lessons, and possibly ponderings on how much blood one could actually lose before dying.

Wait.

That was it.

 _Bear’s den_.

“What?”

Yang blinked, finding Blake staring at her in bewilderment; she realized a moment later that she’d accidentally said the phrase aloud. A grin split the tanned skin, freckles rising with her cheeks.

“I have a plan.”

Yang’s triumphant phrase was not exactly met with resounding relief. Junior only glared at her, likely still annoyed over the fact that she’d brought the entire police force to his front door. Blake had a kind of forlorn expression across her features, as though she were trying to figure out what she’d done in a past life to deserve this.

Yang scowled, striding forwards both in person and in speech.

“So, I’m thinking–”

“Careful doing that, it might start to hurt.”

Well, apparently regardless of the situation, there was always time for witty banter.

“ _I’m thinking_ that we have one of three options.”

A hand went up, tanned and cuffed and holding up four fingers. There was a moment’s pause, and one slowly lowered out of sight.

“Option one,” Yang grandly announced, looking far too proud of herself for the momentary breakthrough, which was sure to be alarmingly underwhelming, “we continue reminiscing in this back alley–”

“ _Reminiscing?_ We’re not reminiscing, you nearly blew up my club again!”

“–and we get caught by the cops, because anyone in a back alley always looks suspicious.”

“Do they now?”

“ _Yes_ , Blake, it’s a rule of the street. And shouldn’t you be backing me up, not introducing my argument to facts?”

“It’s an overdue introduction, Yang.”

“Good partners don’t derail others with sound logic!”

A sudden bark of a siren reminded them of their currently rather dire situation, and bickers over good partner etiquette were abandoned, for the moment.

“Option two,” Yang continued, lowering another finger, “we hide out in the dumpster, and hope it serves as some kind of fortress.”

“Like what, ‘fort asshole?’”

“ _And_ we hope that the cops are stupid enough to not think to look inside it.”

“Yang, this date is bad enough, we really don’t need to add any more trash to it.”

A withering lilac gaze shot two inches left of Blake, but the point was clear enough.

“ _Option three_ ,” Yang began, her tone filled with a patience stretched thinner than Neptune’s thong, “we ditch the defensive, and go for a more… offensive approach.”

“I can’t think of anything more offensive than the smell of sitting in Junior’s dumpster, Yang.”

“I second her on that one, Blondie. Do you _want_ to know what’s in there?”

_“Would you quit interrupting me–”_

A crash from inside the club echoed up to where they stood, shouts coming shortly after. Cries of ‘cops’ and ‘blondie’ and ‘junior’ were distinguishable in the muddle of voices, the Malachites’ voices a pitch higher than the rest. It seemed the rest of the bar had caught on to the situation outside. This wasn’t spectacularly surprising, considering that the sirens were now loud enough to raise the dead, or Nora from a nap.

They were almost out of time.

“ _Option three_ ,” Yang growled, the edge of the alleyway lighting up with distant hues of flashing reds and blues, “we get the hell out of here.”

“And how do you think you’re going to do that?” Junior began, leaning towards her. That was his mistake – Yang cut off the rest of his words, as well as most of his breath.

With the fastest movement Blake had seen from her all night, Yang lashed out with her free hand, digging her fist into the larger man’s collar and yanking him off balance. He stumbled, on a path to his knees when Yang hoisted him up, dragging him forwards to snarl into his face.

“Easy,” the blonde replied harshly, any traces of her jovial, carefree side lost in a change to seriousness that gave Blake mental whiplash, “ _you show me where Little Cub is._ ”

Blake’s brows furrowed in puzzlement, but Junior’s expression showed both women that he knew exactly what Yang was referring to. His face darkened a moment later, mouth opening to argue – Yang didn’t give him the chance, yanking on his collar even more.

“Make your choice, Junior,” she growled, the alley now bathed in flashing lights, “Don’t do it, and I’ll relish the opportunity to torch your place the first chance I get.”

The larger man swallowed as best he could, anger mixing with fear in his eyes.

“But show me where it is,” Yang continued, pausing before her next words, “and we’ll consider all debts paid.”

Junior’s brows lifted in surprise at this – Blake watched the exchange with intrigue, noting the blonde’s softer tone on her last words. Silence reigned for a pause – minus the sirens that had undoubtedly advanced – before Yang spoke in a voice with desperation and worry.

_“Choose, Junior!”_

The larger man frowned, then he batted her hands away – the blonde let him go without resistance, Junior standing back up to his full height. He locked eyes with the brawler for a moment – then his gaze shifted to the right, and he gestured with his head behind him.

Yang and Blake followed the gesture’s direction, the blonde tugging on her partner as she shot past Junior, stopping at a pile of wooden pallets and metal sheets. With a grunt of effort, Yang reached out to pull the largest one aside – a metal sheet propped up against the walls – her muscles straining as it scraped across the ground.

Blake watched in amazement as the sheet slid open to reveal a hidden notch in the alley – inside sat something covered in black fabric, its vague shape indistinguishable in the gloom. Yang, however, clearly knew what it was – she grinned brightly as she grasped hold of the fabric, yanking it away in one fell swoop.

Blake blinked in surprise.

A motorbike sat before them, black and silver with red detailing across it. A bear’s head was emblazoned on its front – Blake realized that she was looking at ‘Little Cub,’ as Yang had called it. The pair took in the sight for a moment before Yang turned to Blake, grinning wide.

“Ready?” she asked, before whirling to yell back at Junior, “Hey, Junior! Keys!”

The silver objects were tossed a second later, Yang catching them with surprising ease – it seemed the alcohol was starting to lessen. Wait. Alcohol.

Blake grabbed Yang’s arm as the blonde reached to pull the bike from its hiding spot, startling her partner and rattling the handcuff chain.

“Wait, Yang,” she said, catching lilac with amber, “you can’t drive.”

When bewilderment was all she was met with, Blake elaborated.

“You’re drunk, remember?”

Yang’s expression cleared, realization filling her features, before the blonde frowned at the new setback. She glanced at the dark haired woman before her, brows furrowing in thought as she spoke.

“Do you know how to drive?”

Blake frowned, amber eyes roaming over the vehicle.

“A motorbike?” she asked, her voice unsure, “I rode one a long time ago, but I–”

“That’ll have to do,” Yang interjected, turning back to the bike and steering it out fully into the alley, “I’ll coach from the backseat if you get stuck.”

Before Blake could point out the flaws in that brilliant plan, which had more holes in it than swiss cheese, Junior decided to cut into the conversation.

“How exactly do you plan on dealing with the weight?” he asked, watching as Yang nudged Blake towards the bike, climbing on after her partner, “it’s hard enough to drive with two people, but weight like that won’t be possible for a beginner.”

Yang glanced at him, an expression of puzzlement on her face.

“Weight?” she repeated, voice lilting with a carefree confusion that was a little _too_ carefree for their current circumstances.

Blake was too busy remembering how to drive the bike to catch the teasing tone, however; Junior frowned at the blonde’s manner, grumpy that the girl wasn’t catching on.

“Yes, the weight,” he spat back, voice rushed as he stepped towards the pair, “You know, the weight of three–”

He froze, suddenly struck with realization the same way a tree is suddenly demolished by lightning. Junior paled slightly, eyes widening as he realized exactly what the blonde had in mind – as though to confirm his suspicions, Yang grinned wide, Blake cranking the key in the ignition and smacking the start switch.

A great deal of sound filled the alley all at once.

The motorbike burst into life, shaking as it warmed up. The sirens reached a peak point, accompanied by the sound of screeching tires as the cops finally reached the club, tearing around the corner in a burst of alarms and light. Junior made a small noise of understanding and outrage, his expression morphing into shcok and anger. And Yang, well, Yang –

“Three people?”

The blonde’s grin was audible even in her voice, Junior’s incensed cry only making the woman smile wider.

“I think you misunderstood, Junior,” Yang continued, lilac glancing momentarily to the opening of the alley, “ _All_ debts are now paid.”

Then–

“Blake, go!”

Her partner didn’t need telling twice, cranking the throttle as she let out the clutch. The bike shot forwards in a burst of speed, Junior’s outstretched hand just shy of Yang’s waving hand.

One arm wrapped tight around Blake’s middle, Yang blew a kiss to the abandoned club owner, waving sarcastically as they shot out of the alley.

“Have fun in Fort Asshole, Junior!”

The man’s yell of anger and betrayal was lost to the sound of the bike, Yang turning around just in time for the bike to burst out into the open street, bypassing the sidewalk and landing into the street.

About ten cops turned to face the source of the noise, surprise and suspicion on their faces. Time seemed to slow, Blake and Yang glancing over their shoulders at the small army of police cars behind them, making eye contact with the multitude of owners. For a good second, the moment was suspended, stretched out with an atmosphere of shock and disbelief.

Then the bike turned fully, painting all but a visible target on the backs of the retreating women. Yang’s muttered commentary summed up the situation pretty well.

“Oh, _shit._ ”

The moment shattered, surprise giving way to impulse. Blake cranked the throttle, shifting gears on reflex and adrenaline alone. Yang swore a blue streak as they took off down the blessedly empty street, leaving a commotion in their wake. Half the cops had begun yelling into radios, some moving to help the two cops they’d nearly run over when exiting the alley, the rest sprinting into squad cars.

Wide lilac glanced back through a fluttering curtain of blonde, taking in the scenario currently pursuing them – the three nearest squad cars had taken off behind them, eagerly giving chase to the pair that had to be the fight instigators. In the haze of fear and adrenaline, a spark of happiness shot through Yang as she saw a pair of cops pull Junior from the alley.

Drunken impulse took over, and Yang shot the club owner a very expressive hand gesture – realizing a second too late that she had just, essentially, given a veritable horde of cops the finger.

Blake was alerted to Yang’s swearing, noticing the change in tone – gone was the astonishment and surprise; in its place was panic, and… hang on, that was guilt.

“Yang,” Blake began, but the blonde had anticipated her query, responding before her partner could even get the question out.

“I may have accidentally made our situation worse.”

Blake’s palm squeezed in reflex, pulling slightly on the brake – the bike jolted, nearly pitching its riders off. Yang yelped in surprise, an iron grip squeezing the breath from the driver.

“The bike, Blake! Watch the bike!”

A wheeze was her only reply, alerting Yang to her current position.

“Oh, yikes, sorry!”

The blonde loosened her grip automatically, then realized her mistake – quick reflexes and the handcuff chain, stretching around from Blake’s front, were all that kept her from toppling off back of the bike. Unfortunately, her flailing hand found purchase higher this time around, landing on a very soft, very squishy part of Blake’s body.

At least this time Yang clued in fast.

She dropped her grip down instantly, screaming apologies over the sound of the engine. For a moment, Blake said nothing – Yang began mentally planning back-of-bike defensive strategies. Then Blake replied, her own yell echoing off the storefronts with the sound of the bike.

“Shouldn’t you buy me dinner first?”

Yang blinked in shock, before she broke into laughter – the scenario was just too much. On the back of a half-stolen/half-traded motorbike, fleeing down the back roads of Vale at night, pursued by half of an angry and offended police force, and making jokes about inappropriate hand rests.

Yang’s laughter slowly petered out, Blake’s own soft, hysterical chuckle doing the same. The blonde shook her head, sending gold every which way.

“Marry me, Blake.”

“Maybe later,” came the reply, “when we’re _not_ fleeing from cops? How many are back there, anyways?”

Yang checked with a quick glance – four cars were rapidly gaining on them, their speed more than Blake could risk on the bike. Lilac eyes narrowed; the cops might have speed, but the handcuffed partners had _size_.

“Four squad cars!” she replied, swivelling back around to take in the street before them. Junior’s club was in a blessedly seedy area, which meant that few people or cars were present at such an hour. The road was relatively empty, alleyways joining the thoroughfare at multiple points, like joints leading to different limbs.

Blake cursed from below her at the report, but Yang was lost in thought – the haze of alcohol was steadily loosening, offering up even more thinking capacity. Running through her mental map of the area, the blonde pulled together a plan, ignoring the increasing sirens behind them for the umpteenth time that night.

“Blake,” the blonde began, a slight nod the only indicator her partner had heard her, “I have a plan.”

There was no reply for a moment, just the sound of the bike and the sirens and possibly their racing hearts.

“Yang.”

The blonde blinked at the sound of her name, glancing down as Blake continued talking (well, yelling).

“So far, your ‘plans’ this evening have lit a bar on fire, caused a Tom Jones fuelled brawl, put us into a car chase with cops, and nearly killed us with a bike once already.”

Yang opened her mouth to reply, but Blake cut her off before she could.

“Sorry, set _limes_ on fire.”

The blonde frowned, taking a moment to pull her defense together. Finding none, she decided to take a stab at it anyways, much like the rest of her choices that night.

“Fine, but I thought about this one for over a minute.”

Again, no reply – Yang could practically imagine the suggestion being weighed out in Blake’s mind.

“I can’t believe that actually counts in your favour,” came the muttered reply, the words nearly lost in the roar of the bike before Blake returned to full volume, “Screw it, whatever. What’s the plan?”

Yang stared up ahead of them, then glanced back to judge the distance of the cop cars behind them. With a reckless, wild grin, she replied to her partner.

“You’re not going to like it!” she warned with a laugh.

“I’d be more surprised if you told me I would! Now, quit stalling, and tell me what it is – I can see the cops gaining in the mirrors.”

Yang shrugged, and told her. Five and a half instructions later, Blake was starting to regret ever having talked to Sun in the first place, considering it led her up to this date. Either Yang was certifiably the most optimistic person in Vale, or Sun had set her up with a known idiot.

But in spite of the common sense that was screaming against following the blonde’s insane plan, Blake found herself pulled along with her partner’s seemingly endless optimism. If anyone could find themselves enthusiastic in the middle of a police chase, Blake idly mused, it would be Yang.

“Are you sure?” Blake asked, trying and failing to keep the worry from her tone. Yang’s reply was almost immediate, without a trace of doubt in her voice.

“I’m sure, Blake.”

A pause.

“Trust me.”

No one would ever jump to call Blake Belladonna an easily swayed woman, or a particularly foolish one, but all evidence in the current moment pointed fully to it. Something about Yang’s bright reply had chased away the last bit of apprehension clinging to her actions, belief filling the dark haired woman.

“Fine,” Blake replied, wit with her even in the direst of situations, “but you’re paying my bail if this goes wrong!”

Laughter was her only reply – the time for clever conversation had disappeared anyways, their only chance at making it out of the mess coming ever closer. Their last chance at salvation drew near – and Blake pulled in the clutch as they braked, slowly drawing to a rest at the stop sign.

It was perhaps the strangest sight of the evening, the focus of a car chase completely obeying a mundane traffic law in spite of the several pursuers gaining.

The bike’s roar faded to a muted rumble, giving the pair a chance for a relatively-normal-volume conversation, even as the sirens bore down onto their backs.

“Hey, Blake.”

Yang’s voice cut through the noise, a slight note of merriment noticeable in her tone.

“Hmmm?”

“Do you think they’d put on a second set of handcuffs?”

Blake laughed, the sound drowned out a moment later as the cop cars drew up behind them, stopping in a screech of tires. Yang’s free hand moved forwards to rest atop Blake’s, the latter’s grip knuckle-white tight over the throttle.

“Hold,” came the soft command whispered over her shoulder.

A cop had begun yelling through a megaphone, though the sound of a door opening hadn’t yet sounded. Fear wormed its way into Blake’s heart, only to be chased away by the reassuring warmth of the hand atop her own.

“Wait for it…”

Yang’s voice was steady and even, the only sound Blake could focus on amongst the blur of volume. Time seemed to stretch out. Then the click of a door opening sounded in the air, and Yang let out a yell that shattered the pause.

“NOW!”

Blake gunned it, the bike’s tires screeching and leaving marks on the asphalt as it leapt into motion, tearing from the spot like a shot from a rifle. Startled cries from the cops mingled with the motor, Yang’s yell of ‘go, go, go!’ spurring Blake on.

They shot away from the stop sign in a blur of black and yellow, the cops stumbling to leap back into their cars fast enough. Their lead was palpable – Yang let out a triumphant cry, grinning at the sight of a dark haired cop yelling at his pink pony-tailed partner, who apparently had hit the door lock in his surprise.

She turned in time to give Blake directions, yelling ‘right!’ as loud as she could. The bike turned as sharply as Blake could manage, the pair entering the maze of alleys that sprawled across Junior’s part of town. It was hazardous, but the pursuing cars couldn’t fit into the alley – for a moment, it seemed like they’d lost them.

Still, it was best to put as much distance between them – Blake continued their path down the alleyway, Yang glancing back to make sure they weren’t being followed. Grins – half triumph, half hysteria – were splashed across their faces. The exit from the alley was before them, bright light from a well-lit street flooding into the gap.

Then the light turned red and blue, and Blake realized with a sense of condemning horror that they were going far too fast to avoid leaving the alley.

The bike shot out of an alley for the second time that night.

A veritable horde of cops were at the end of the road, for the second time that night.

And the ridiculously fitting, overused phrase ‘out of the frying pan, into the fire’ arose in Yang’s mind again, for the–

“Oh, for the love of Oum…”

Blake’s mutter was the only commentary needed, Yang’s silence a supportive reply in its own right.

The bike swerved into the street, a good distance ahead of the oncoming throng – the sensible part of Yang’s mind reminded her that it wouldn’t be long before that gap was closed. The rest of her mind – fuelled strongly by Ruby’s contagious optimism – ignored it.

“Yang, what’s the plan?”

Blake’s cry went without any kind of reply. The dark haired woman stole a glance back – Yang was facing behind her, eyes wide and mouth wide open in astonishment.

“Yang?”

For a moment, there was only silence, filled with the roar of the engine, wind whipping through her hair, and fading sirens.

Wait. Fading?

“I don’t believe it.”

Yang’s awed voice was hushed, as though it were some kind of life-shattering reverie. Blake blinked, cursing her need to keep her eyes on the road.

“What’s going on back there?”

Again, Yang ignored her question, instead staring at the sight disappearing behind them. All of the cop cars had stopped, sirens blaring even as they waited at the flashing crosswalk. Slowly taking his time in what was one of the worst costumes Yang had ever seen – and for a girl who had attended more frat parties than she could count on both hands, that was high praise – was Scarlet, dressed as an elderly man. Velvet, rabbit ears poking up through a curly grey wig, was starting to make her way across the street as well, blocking off the second side of the road.

Yang burst into laughter as she watched three cops move to try and help Scarlet cross faster, startling Blake.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry,” Yang answered Blake’s still open question, starting to turn back around, “We’re lucky, just keep dri–WHOA!”

Blake and Yang were nearly prematurely taken out mid-date via Pyrrha Nikos, with the cop car, in the middle of the street.

“I’m sorry!”

Pyrrha’s voice broke through the conversation, Blake yelping and swerving to the side as a cop car launched out of a side street, turning on a dime towards them. Pyrrha half hung out the passenger widow, holding on for dear life as the driver fishtailed into the lane, pulling up parallel to the pair on the bike.

Yang’s mouth hung open in shock as a woman in the backseat yelled at the driver, a woman with a shock of turquoise hair and – was that war paint?

“REESE! For Oum’s sake, you’re going to kill us all!”

“Aw, calm down Arslan, I know what I’m doing!”

Arslan devolved into a swearing mess in a police uniform, Pyrrha wincing at the sound and muttering what sounded like “I forgot why Reese was banned from the wheel.”

Any chance at clarifying the statement was lost in an angry yell behind them – Yang whirled to check behind them, then snorted at the sight. Scarlet was being bodily lifted by three police officers, no doubt trying to quickly move along the ‘ornery old man.’ Velvet had already been stopped, and cop cars were beginning to stream through the open gap.

“Blake!”

The dark haired woman glanced to her left at Pyrrha’s cry, finding the redhead pointing to her other side.

“Take a right!”

Blake obliged, the motorbike dipping around the corner, shadowed by Reese and the rest. A faint howl emerged from the backseat of the car.

“Did we just go on _two wheels?_ ”

Reese’s maniacal laughter filled the background noise. Pyrrha ignored the clashing duo, instead choosing to give a cheery wave to the two girls on the bike.

“Hello again!” she said brightly, as though she weren’t hanging out of a police car with the rest of her workforce trailing behind.

Yang gaped; Blake wondered if Yang’s friends were all this eccentric, or if she was just meeting the lucky ones.

“You’ve only met them once tonight, Pyrrha, you can’t say ‘again,’” Reese’s input cut in, followed shortly by Arslan’s howl of ‘keep your eyes on the road, not Pyrrha!’

“I don’t really think the logistics matter anymore!” Yang barked back, Reese giggling at her exasperated tone, “I’m more interested in knowing why you thought it would be a good idea to spring the entire police force of Vale on us!”

Pyrrha shrugged nonchalantly, glancing back behind them to assure that no coworkers had yet turned the corner.

“It’s only my department, if half that,” Pyrrha said in what she probably thought was a reassuring manner, though it reassured about as much as a book on swimming could reassure a drowning person.

Yang made a noise of incense, Pyrrha quickly continuing on.

“Anyways, it wasn’t on purpose! There was an accident with a siren, and some very poor timing. I’ll have to tell you about it sometime.”

“How about _now?!”_

Yang’s words sounded strangled, but Pyrrha waved them off with her hand (and almost fell out of the window).

“No time,” the redhead explained when she had pulled herself up enough to avoid death by road burn, “The rest of the squad is about to turn that corner any minute now.”

As if on cue – in a sickening play titled ‘Yang and Blake’s Lives: a Series of Unfortunate Events’ – the pursuers shot around the corner, racing into the street with a blaze of lights and sound. Pyrrha grinned brightly at Yang as her prediction came true.

“ _Why_ do you look _happy_ about this?”

“Blake,” Pyrrha ignored Yang entirely, instead catching the attention of the woman who was impressing herself with her driving skills, “we’ve got a plan.”

“I’m listening,” replied Blake, “After all, it can’t turn out worse than one of Yang’s plans.”

“If it wouldn’t kill us both, I would jump off the back of the bike right now.”

Yang was ignored again, Pyrrha pointing to an intersection gaining quickly.

“We’ll both make a right up there; then you can pull into one of the alleys and hide. We’ll pretend to chase after you, so the squad should follow us. Ditch the bike, and stay out of sight. Got it!”

Blake nodded, then glanced back at her passenger.

“Hear that, Yang? That’s how a normal plan sounds.”

The blonde scowled, but didn’t deny the fact, either. Pyrrha grinned, mock saluted them, and pulled herself fully back into the car. Reese laughed, pulling back slightly to let Blake take the lead. A snarky ‘good luck’ sounded from the cop car, and then Blake and Yang were left on their own.

They took the corner, but still weren’t out of the woods quite yet. As though a particularly malevolent god had taken a special interest in their lives, the theme of ‘bikes’ once again appeared to throw a wrench in their plans.

Granted, the two policemen on bikes probably hadn’t been intending to nearly get run over by them, but it happened nonetheless.

Blake threw an apology over her shoulder as they rocketed by – Arslan waved when the squad car passed the shell shocked pair.

“Wait, won’t they see us split?” Yang asked, worry etching around lilac eyes. Blake didn’t answer, instead gripping the handlebars a little more resolutely. The blonde turned back ahead, realizing that she recognized the area.

“Hey, Blake, make a right where that weird book shop is!”

They bypassed it completely, Blake not even sparing the shop a glance. Yang blinked, her hand still raised and now pointing at nothing in particular.

“Um, Blake, you missed the turn.”

Still no verbal reply, but Blake pulled on the brake – Pyrrha and her patrol pair shot by in a blur. Yang glanced behind her – judging by the lights and sounds, the rest of the pack was seconds away from turning onto the street.

“Uh – we’re slowing down _why?_ Did you want to stop and ask for directions–”

Yang’s words cut off with a yelp as the bike suddenly swerved into what appeared to be a wall – but before Yang could raise her arms in defense, fabric smacked her face, then gave way. They’d turned into a hidden alley, incredibly dark and illuminated only by the bike’s headlight.

“What–”

Before Yang could finish the question, the bike began to slow, Blake braking to a stop. Yang glanced worriedly behind her, staring back at the obscured entrance. Flashing lights racing by proved that their ploy had worked – the small army of cars had passed by without noticing their disappearance – but incoming voices reminded her of the police bikers.

“Blake, I don’t think we’re safe.”

“I know,” came the reply, Blake speaking for the first time. Yang blinked as her partner cut the bike’s power, the alley plunging into darkness. The blonde felt a pull on her arm as Blake moved, the handcuff chain going taught with her motion. A moment later, amber eyes stood right in front of her, peering with a strange kind of accuracy at Yang.

“Help me hide the bike.”

Yang nodded, caught off guard by the suddenly serious side of Blake. The pair moved, pushing the bike behind an alcove of trash cans and empty boxes. Yang glanced around, unable to see anything in the gloom.

“What now?” she asked, “They’ll have flashlights.”

“Follow me.”

Another tug on the handcuffs – Yang stumbled along, blindly tripping over things in the dark. The voices suddenly grew in volume – they could hear the sounds of the policemen dismounting.

“Yang.”

The blonde whirled back around to the source of the sound, finding a Blake-ish shape before her.

“Do you trust me?”

Yang’s brows furrowed, the woman caught off-guard by the question. After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded.

A second later, she was weightless.

Yang yelped as Blake pulled her into fireman’s carry, the blonde draped over her partner’s shoulders. Before she could start thinking about how Blake was even managing such a thing, the dark haired woman was in motion, jumping up onto a nearby dumpster.

At a speed that really shouldn’t have been possible with the muscular blonde slung over her shoulders, Blake climbed atop the dumpster, then a roof, then over a fence that Yang hadn’t even seen in the dark. They landed in amongst a pile of bags, softening their fall – behind them, Yang heard the policemen enter the alley. Blake must have heard it as well, picking up her speed as they ran down the dark alcove, somehow avoiding the trash and trips waiting in their path.

A light flickered on overhead at their motion; it was dim, but it lit the alley well enough for Yang to pick out vague shapes. Blake ran towards it, still holding the blonde.

“Uh, Blake, you can put me down now.”

A chuckle came from her partner, who held on to her for several seconds more, eventually coming to a stop in the middle of the alley. Yang found herself deposited neatly on the steady ground a moment later, standing upright to find Blake smirking back at her.

“You really aren’t as heavy as you make yourself out to be,” the woman whispered, moving away before Yang could reply and give away their location.

“Um, what are you doing?” the blonde replied, curiosity temporarily overwhelming her confusion. Blake didn’t reply, instead continuing to search along the wall. A moment later, she paused, then turned to grin at Yang.

“Finding our escape,” she said enigmatically, before pulling free a rope that had been hidden in a notch in the bricks. Yang frowned – Blake pulled down on the rope, and with a surprisingly soundless movement, a ladder fell into view.

Yang stumbled back, staring at it – it connected to the fire escape well above them, giving them a clear way up and out of the alley. An errant flashlight beam reminded them both of their situation – far less intense than before, but still slightly worrisome.

“Climb?” Yang whispered, Blake nodding slightly. The blonde gestured to her back – Blake narrowed her eyes.

“Is your balance fully back yet?”

Yang’s hesitation was enough. Blake gestured to her own back, turning so that Yang could climb on. The blonde did so, knowing that it wasn’t exactly a good time to argue – but bewilderment still lingered in her mind.

Blake climbed silently, hoisting them onto the platform above. She let Yang down, moving to pull up the ladder with a second rope. The sound of the nearby fence rattling gave away the policemens’ location – with a silent jerk of her head, Blake gestured for Yang to climb.

The blonde, however, wasn’t nearly on the stealth level that Blake seemed to have attained. Her first step shook the fire escape, causing it to creak. Both women froze – so did the flashlight beams. Neither of them moved, Yang going so far as not to breathe – then the beams resumed their waving, and the blonde let out an audible breath.

Then the rest of it left her in surprise, as Blake pulled her up into a bridal carry, Yang automatically throwing her arms around her neck for support. With an annoyed glare, Yang moved her head to stare at Blake, hoping it was far too dark for the woman to catch the very noticable blush splashed across her cheeks.

Blake merely raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by Yang’s reaction.

“Would you quit picking me up?” Yang hissed, as quietly as she could.

“When you learn to be quiet, sure,” came the sassy reply.

Before Yang could get in another quip, the sounds of voices and flashlights passed below them. Both Blake and Yang were still, watching the last of their pursuers walk obliviously below them.

“They must have gone this way!”

The first cop gestured to the second, who nodded. Ten seconds or so of agonizing waiting later, and they had run out of sight.

Yang let out a breath she hadn’t know she was holding, Blake doing the same before she began to climb the rest of the fire escape. They stopped two flights up, Blake gently letting Yang down before turning her attention to a window.

Yang glanced down at the alley below, which had gone quiet once more, sirens and screaming now a thing of the past.

“Do you think it’s safe to – _Blake, what are you doing_?”

Her partner froze, glancing back at the blonde. Yang stared in astonishment, eyes passing back and forth between the woman and the now-very-much-open window.

“Okay,” the blonde began after a lengthy pause, “I might have crazy ideas, but at least none of them involved breaking and entering!”

Blake laughed breathily, her face breaking into a soft smile. The dark haired woman began to climb through the window, the action tugging Yang forwards.

“Come on,” Blake beckoned, slipping into the dark room.

“What? No!”

Blake rolled her eyes – not that Yang could see it – and gave another, heartier tug on the handcuffs.

“Ugh – fine, fine. But for the record, I was dragged into this!”

“I’d hardly say a gentle tug counts as ‘dragging,’” Blake returned as Yang awkwardly fit through the window, nearly face-planting as she snagged her foot on the windowsill. Blake grabbed her shoulders, keeping her upright – Yang nodded in thanks, replying as she stood back up.

“I don’t know what you think constitutes as a ‘gentle tug,’ but let me tell you, that was not…”

Her words trailed off as she took in the room they now stood in, the glow of a streetlight flooding in through a window and casting light across the entire room. It was an open expanse, what seemed like an abandoned office space – concrete floors and pillars made up the room, with graffiti spanning across the walls.

Yang simply stared, Blake watching with a curious expression, waiting for the blonde to speak. And speak, eventually, she did.

“Blake… what is this place?”

The woman in question smiled gently, traces of the former serious persona fading away.

“A safe place,” she answered cryptically, moving forwards and pulling the dumbfounded blonde along. Yang moved without much resistance, too busy trying to make out the images on the walls. She nearly tripped over a crate – glancing down, she realized it was filled with spray paint cans, rattling as she bumped into them.

The sound echoed in the empty space, Blake leading them both to a couch in the middle of the room. The dark haired woman flopped onto it the moment she was in reach, sighing and sinking into the cushions. Amber eyes closed, the woman smiling slightly.

“I haven’t had a workout like that in a while,” Blake admitted, though without context, the phrase meant very little to Yang.

When the blonde didn’t reply, amber eyes sprang open, meeting confused lilac. Blake smiled, shifting on the couch and patting the empty space beside her.

“Uh, no thanks.”

A dark eyebrow lifted in query.

“Why not?”

“Why – how do you even know it’s safe and not, like, crawling with germs or something?”

Blake blinked – then she laughed, the sound free and open in the empty space. She grinned at the blonde easily, rolling her eyes at Yang’s hesitation.

“I put it here, Yang,” she explained, “trust me, it’s safe.”

“… Oh.”

The blonde could think of nothing else to say, choosing instead to sit and resume studying the walls. Animals were a running theme, the colours black and purple greatly used in the myriad crossing the expanse. Things began to stand out to Yang – a monkey dancing in light, weapons and flags raised to a shattered moon, a black panther curled around a familiar symbol.

Yang leaned forwards, eyes going wide at it – few knew it in comparison to its new version, but the blonde recognized the insignia. A weathered brand of the former White Fang stared back at her.

The blonde whirled to face her partner, Blake staring back at her expectantly.

“The Fang?” Yang whispered, confusion woven throughout her voice, “Blake, you were part of the…”

She trailed off when Blake looked down, lilac following the amber gaze a moment later. Her heart all but stopped in her chest as she took in the symbol that she’d missed before, emblazoned in a deep purple on the floor before their feet. She’d recognize that sign anywhere.

A cat’s skull, with ears of smoke and pointed fangs curling around a single flower – a Belladonna lily. The sign of the infamous graffiti artist who had painted the streets of Vale for years, a Faunus activist that Yang knew about a little too well.

Lilac eyes shot back and forth between the woman before her, and the sign spray painting on the floor. It didn’t take long to make the connection – there wasn’t nearly enough alcohol in Yang’s system to keep her from putting two and two together. That said, she suddenly felt like she needed a lot _more_ alcohol to deal with the sudden news.

“You…”

Blake stared back as Yang tried to voice the realization, unable to completely find the words. Her partner wore a look that the blonde now recognized as apprehension, mixed with a kind of trusting bravery. Yang swallowed, meeting Blake’s gaze, and tried again.

“You’re Lily Fang?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back! With a cliffhanger, of sorts. And the longest chapter yet of this fic!
> 
> A huge thanks goes out to all of you, for the comments and kudos and the rest of the support you've delivered during my time of absence. I was kind of knocked around by school a lot, but that's lessened and I have a bit more time to write now, so the next chapters should be pretty frequent. This particular chapter is a bit of a frankenstein one, as it was written in chunks over multiple months - if the writing style changes, that's why. Buuut I wasn't going to hold on to it any longer, so I hope you enjoy it! Still a lot to go - see you in the next chapter.


	17. Ready?

Ruby had always loved karaoke, social anxiety be damned. She wasn’t really sure just where the fond feeling had come from – growing up listening to Yang belt off-tune pop songs in the shower; her dad softly singing classic love ballads while making dinner; Qrow’s drunken renditions of oldies; the list went on and on – but nevertheless, she was drawn to music the way peanut butter sought out jelly. Or milk. Or chocolate chips… Alright, not the best metaphor.

Regardless, Ruby found some kind of loyalty and love in microphones with plastic casings, greasy and sweaty and stained with Dorito dust. Perhaps it was her distinctly Filipino heritage, or just a nostalgia-ridden high, but either way, karaoke got her blood pumping almost fast enough to be of concern.

All that said, however, Ruby wasn’t sure she loved karaoke enough to perform it in the concert hall of the arcade, amongst sweaty strangers and on an unfamiliar couch that looked as though it had been dragged along a dirt road for ten miles.

Fox, on the other hand, accepted the couch easily as he flopped down into its cushy embrace – though, being unable to see the literal cloud of dust that wheezed from its seams probably helped. He grinned brightly in their direction, completely oblivious to Weiss’s disdainful hand waving as the flurry of dust made its way towards them.

He did, however, hear Ruby’s sudden coughing, and chose to completely ignore that.

“Welcome,” the mirthful young man began, spreading his arms out in a grandiose gesture, “to the second challenge!”

Weiss squinted, blue eyes narrowing in sharply on the small, enclosed space that had been offered. An old TV set was hooked up to a trivial, old grey console, a jumble of wires heralding its connection. A couple of remotes sat beside it on the small table, joined by four microphones that, honestly, looked like they had seen better days. The setup was completed by a pair of couches, more or less across from one another, with the TV at the end.

It wouldn’t have looked out of place in Ruby’s living room, if the younger woman were being honest.

It would have stuck out like racy lingerie in Weiss’s entire house, if the visibly annoyed woman were being honest.

“Fox,” the second woman in question began, her voice flatter than her chest, “Why exactly am I staring at what appears to be a living room set up from the side of a curb?”

The blind man didn’t even hesitate.

“Probably because it’s exactly a living room set up, right from the side of a curb,” he stated bluntly, grinning as though he were able to hear Weiss’s scowl, “C’mon, Weiss, how many times are you going to ask me questions where you already know exactly how I’m going to–”

“Are we doing karaoke?”

Ruby’s voice cut cleanly through their bickering, the way a katana would be used to chop vegetables: easily, and completely unexpected.

Caught off guard by the hint of excitement in the woman’s voice, Fox blinked before he replied, his own tone tinged with curiosity.

“Yes,” came the easy answer, “does someone have a bit of a history with such setups?”

Ruby blushed, looking away as though her reddened reaction hadn’t already completely answered the question. Weiss was now looking at her curiously as well, a white eyebrow perked with intrigue. Fox smiled at the explanatory silence, a genuine expression without the trickster spirit stitched into its stretching.

“That’s good to hear,” Fox continued, “It helps to have at least one person used to singing for a crowd. And of course, two is even better.”

Ruby’s confusion showed in the crease between her eyebrows, but Fox quickly continued on before she could inquire towards what he’d meant.

“I guess this makes my job a little bit easier,” Fox pushed forwards, sounding a little bit guilty, as though he’d accidentally let something slip, “I imagine you both know how karaoke works?”

“They’re both nodding,” came Yatsuhashi’s steady reply.

“Excellent choice of reply,” Fox retaliated, “thank goodness you’re here, Yatsu. Otherwise they could have slipped out the door ages ago, and I would have continued talking to myself.”

A pause, then he added a dark mutter.

“Like every other night.”

Ruby blinked, Yatsuhashi shook his head, and Weiss rolled her eyes. Fox laughed, clearly having anticipated no audible reaction.

“I’m kidding,” he continued, “I’m not that edgy. I only talk to myself because I love hearing the sound of my own voice.”

“Narcissism can’t fool me, Fox,” Weiss shot back, “I remember your hot topic phase.”

“And I remember _yours_ ,” Fox easily retorted, with a tone that let Weiss know she’d walked directly into that one. Strolled, even.

Wisely – Weiss-ely – she chose not to reply.

Fox ended their path of conversation with a loud smack as he brought his palms down onto the couch cushions beside him, enacting an encore of the earlier dust derby.

“Come on, take a seat,” he prompted, “we certainly haven’t got all night here, and we wouldn’t want you two to fall behind on your date.”

“No, we wouldn’t want that,” Weiss replied darkly as she followed his gesture, taking an elegant seat on an incredibly inelegant cushion. She paused, visibly contemplating something.

“This seat is warm,” came the comment a moment later.

“Preheated, and recently vacated,” Fox grinned, “it’s been a popular attraction tonight.”

He paused, looking towards Yatsuhashi, whose weight had sunk deep into the couch and dragged Fox down towards him.

“Actually, that’s a bit odd,” Fox continued, “usually, no one’s got time for karaoke here. Must be some kind of fanatics here tonight.”

The trio that could see glanced around them, trying to spot said supporters. After no avail was presented, Weiss shrugged and lifted her arms halfway up in a dismissive gesture.

“Let’s just hope we didn’t steal their seats, then.”

Fox hummed his agreement, Ruby looking oddly thoughtful.

“That’s the second time we’ve come into conflict with a challenge,” the redhead said, “I wonder if we’re interrupting someone else’s dates?”

Weiss snorted, which sounded a little bit very out of place with her appearance.

“I doubt anyone else’s dates involve handcuffs,” the white haired woman answered, “we deserve date priority, if only out of pity.”

“Ah, so this is definitely considered a date, then?” Fox interrupted, leaning forwards to rest his chin on clasped hands.

“A date of disasters,” Weiss retorted sharply. The words came out before she realized what she was saying, harsh and cold and immediately regretted. She ignored the twinge of guilt she felt at the way disappointment flashed across Ruby’s face, just for a moment, and continued on.

“And speaking of disasters, didn’t you mention needing to finish this one as soon as possible?”

Fox didn’t reply, instead intently staring at Weiss with unseeing eyes. His usual grin had settled out into an expression of sober contemplation, the sudden shift causing Weiss to resist the urge to squirm under his steady watch. For a moment, Fox stayed still, before he straightened up with a sigh and turned towards Yatsuhashi.

“Self-defense,” he stated simply, earning a resolute nod from his larger companion.

Weiss scowled, looking away. Ruby frowned, finding herself very much out of the loop. An awkward silence settled over the group for a moment, like a heavy blanket in the middle of a summer night. Fox broke it with a clearing of his throat, before he clapped his hands together and carried onwards.

“You are correct, Weiss,” he said, drawing the woman’s attention back to him, “we do really need to get this going. So, while Yatsu gets everything set up, I’ll explain the rules. Sound good?”

He paused, before casting a rather accurate glance in her direction.

“After all, we have to get you out of those handcuffs as soon as possible, right?”

The sharp agreement that Ruby was expecting didn’t come. A concerned glance in Weiss’s direction found the white haired woman to not be glaring at Fox, as was anticipated, but rather staring down at her feet, an odd mixture of discomfort and guilt on her features. Fox didn’t comment on Weiss’s silence, however, instead carrying on with his words.

“Alright,” he began, his usual grin settling back onto his face as his tone lifted, “Fox and Yatsu’s Date and Dance News, Part Two!”

He lifted a finger, then pointed it towards the sound of rumbled cursing, where Yatsuhashi was fiddling with the TV’s controls.

“As you guessed, Rose, karaoke is on tonight’s list of accepted events. This challenge is a little more formal than the last, and is both easier and harder, depending on how you look at it.”

He cleared his throat again with a slight ‘ahem,’ closing his eyes and shifting in his seat.

“Tonight, for the audience of myself and Yatsu, with the addition of whoever else comes to watch this miraculous display, you will be performing three songs. You each will get to pick a song, and Yatsu and I will choose the last one for you.”

“But–”

“Hold on, let me finish,” Fox held off Ruby’s interruption, raising a hand, “it’s not that simple.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Weiss muttered, rolling her eyes. Fox smirked, folding in his fingers until only three digits remained.

“There are three conditions that you must meet in this challenge,” he continued, “each song must meet at least one, though you may choose which songs meet which conditions.”

His voice carried steady over the ambience of the arcade, their small pocket of performance surprisingly quiet.

“The first condition,” he began, “is that one song must be a popular one. No niche genres, like some Scottish Pirate Death Metal stuff.”

A finger folded down, leaving only two.

“The second condition” – the scene had turned oddly dramatic – “is that one song must be considered a ‘classic.’”

One finger remained. Ruby and Weiss felt themselves pulled into the moment, hanging on to Fox’s every word.

“The third, and final condition,” he paused, for dramatic effect, and nearly got a couch cushion thrown at him, “is that – and Weiss knows I can judge this – your performance of the song _must_ be pitch perfect.”

With a burst of static and finality, Yatsuhashi connected the cables correctly. Ruby nearly fell into Weiss’s lap in surprise as the TV burst into light and sound, the dramatic tension lost immediately. Fox scowled briefly at the loss of his performance’s effect, shaking his head to clear the buzz of static as Yatsuhashi lowered the volume.

“And those are the only conditions,” Fox finished lamely, all the build-up gone, “any questions?”

Silence met him, the pair across from him seemingly far apart, though they were seated side by side. Ruby looked between Fox and Weiss, one expression of expectant mirth clashing with uncomfortable consideration. With a breath and a bravery beyond her years, Ruby moved to close the rift between them – reaching out with her cuffed hand, she grabbed a hold of Weiss’s own.

The white haired woman blinked, glancing over at Ruby in clear surprise. What met her gaze were silver eyes, steadfast and reassuring, despite the oncoming threat of public humiliation. For a moment, the women only kept eye contact, one resolute and the other rattled.

Then Ruby smiled gently, and squeezed Weiss’s hand tight.

Blue eyes glanced down at their clasped palms, then back up to Ruby’s face, as though searching for some kind of answer. Whatever Weiss was looking for, it appeared that she found it – smoothly, without any kind of outward emotion, the white haired woman turned back to face Fox.

A pause, Ruby worried over how her gesture had been taken, then–

“Is autotune accepted?” Weiss replied flatly, eyebrows in a line as even as her tone. Ruby grinned brightly, turning from her partner to the man across from them.

“Can we customize our mics?” came the redhead’s follow-up question.

Weiss smirked, Fox glancing back and forth between the pair’s voices in surprise.

“Are there snack options available?”

“Do earplugs count as an acceptable solution for perfect pitch?”

“Will we be required to perform an encore?”

“Does the Shrek soundtrack count as a ‘classic’ genre?”

Blue met silver once more, and with a loss of tension in both the air and their postures, Weiss and Ruby broke into giggles together.

Fox was staring towards them, open-mouthed in clear surprise; Yatsuhashi had turned around to watch their banter, smiling softly at their display.

“Yatsu,” Fox began quietly, catching his friend’s attention, “I think Neptune was right.”

The larger man only deepened his smile; dark eyes watching the women interact.

“He was, indeed,” came the answer, a moment later.

The pair watched for a moment longer, before Fox smiled brightly and shook his head, clearing his throat to catch the women’s attention again.

“I will not wear earplugs,” Fox responded, “as that would count as cheating, and this is nothing but an honest event.”

“You literally blackmailed me for a new door when we met.”

“Of all the questions to answer, that’s the one you pick?”

Fox met both incredulous questions with hearty laughter, before he reached out and plucked two mics off of the table, tossing them towards the pair.

“Moving on,” he said, “Is everything hooked up now, Yatsuhashi?”

“Ready for action.”

Fox ducked his head affirmatively, before he repeated his earlier gesture and swept a hand towards the karaoke console.

“Well, then, if you have no further questions – _actual_ questions, Ruby, I can practically hear your smirk – I see no reason to play this out any longer.”

He winked, drawing a gag from Weiss.

“Ladies, pick your poison.”

With a practiced motion that belayed her internal excitement, Ruby all but dove for the remote, immediately scrolling through the long list of songs before them.

“That’s… a lot to choose from,” Weiss commented, watching the names and titles flash by.

“There should be a catalogue somewhere nearby,” Ruby enlightened helpfully, “assuming it’s lasted as long as this machine has.”

Weiss shook her head, glancing around them – Yatsuhashi handed her the small book a moment later, unearthed from between the couch cushions. She flipped through the stained, dogeared pages, searching for something she recognized.

“So, how do you want to do this?” Ruby asked, ignoring Fox and Yatsuhashi entirely, slipping back into the familiar persona she often adopted at family karaoke events, “It’ll probably be easier if we pick songs we both know, but that might be a bit harder with the pitch-perfect stuff and yada, yada.”

“You can’t just ‘yada, yada’ that, it’s literally the only important part,” came Fox’s muttered retort, but no one paid him any attention.

“It might be hard regardless,” Weiss replied, “I don’t think I know many of these songs.”

“Wait, really?” Ruby’s surprise was palpable in her tone, “But there’s so much to choose from!”

Weiss pursed her lips, clearly thinking on how best to phrase her answer.

“I… didn’t really listen to much pop music, growing up,” she settled on, an undercurrent of unease in her voice, “and my classics were mostly instrumental songs.”

“Oh,” was the reply, Ruby unable to keep the disappointment from her tone.

Weiss kept herself from wincing, but couldn’t stop her reaction entirely – her shoulders fell slightly, which didn’t go unnoticed by Ruby, despite the redhead seemingly being preoccupied by the song list.

“Well,” her partner began a moment later, “I guess that just means that after this date, we’ll just have to introduce you to a lot more.”

Her comment earned her a raised white eyebrow, a gleeful grin, and a slight shake of the head. It wasn’t hard to figure out what belonged to who. Thankfully, after the early incident of easily misconstrued comments, Ruby quickly caught on to the innuendo and rushed to clarify it.

“Music, I mean!” she hurriedly explained, “And, like, not another date. Email, or something?”

“Ruby.”

Weiss cut through the start of her panicked rambling, easily stopping the tide of rushed explanations.

“Uh. Yes?”

Weiss smiled, thawing the cold found in her eyes.

“I’d like that.”

Ruby blinked, surprise scrawled across her features like a two year old’s crayon art on a wall.

“Oh.”

A pause.

“Awesome!”

Their sweetness could have given Fox diabetes, but he didn’t have much room to complain, not when his internal squealing could have shattered a window.

Weiss turned back to the screen, squinting at the list stuck somewhere in the ‘W’ section. A great deal of the titles went right over her head, but one stuck tight, like a fly smeared against a swatter.

“Wait a moment,” she began, reaching out to snatch the remote from Ruby’s grasp, scrolling to the song in question, “I know this one.”

Ruby narrowed her eyes to read it, before realization lit up her features like a light bulb and she whirled back to face Weiss.

“Really?” she yelped, the grin on her face an overlap between surprise and glee, with excitement written right down the middle.

“Er, yes?” Weiss replied hesitantly, unsure just how to take Ruby’s sudden burst of emotion, “My sister and I used to sing it growing up.”

Ruby grinned even wider.

“Same.”

Then she faced Fox, anticipation clear on her features.

“Does this count as pop?”

“Sure,” came the amused reply, once Yatsuhashi had read the title aloud, “but which one of you is picking it?”

The pair shared a glance, before Ruby shrugged and turned back to answer him.

“I will, I guess.”

Fox nodded his acceptance; Ruby nodded back and promptly stole the remote back from Weiss, earning herself a startled ‘Hey!’ and an icy glare. With a determined force, the redhead pressed the ‘play’ button with all of her might – and was met with absolutely nothing.

She pressed again. Still nothing.

A third time. A third failure.

“Um.”

Silence met her – Yatsu nudged Fox’s shoulder with his own, prompting the young man out of his waiting reverie.

“What – oh! Right!”

Fox dug into his pockets, which seemed unbelievably deeper the longer he probed through them. Eventually, the jingling sound of coins broke the pregnant pause.

Anticlimactically, he pulled out a handful of change – four Lien sat in his palm. Not the most impressive fortune, if you asked Weiss.

“You’ll need these to play,” Fox explained, “it’s one play for one Lien. And, because Yatsu and I blew all our savings on the tokens for the dance game, we’ve only got four Lien to spare – which means, you’ve only got four tries to complete the challenge. Basically, you have one extra life.”

“Is our princess in another castle, too?”

“Your princess is currently handcuffed at your side, Ruby,” – Fox earned himself a double glare for this, though for two very different reasons – “but I thank you for the pop culture reference.”

He set the Lien on the table with a _clack_ , Ruby swiping one of them up a moment later. After a brief examination of the karaoke machine, she discovered a slot in the box atop the console – presenting it with money caused the remote to suddenly, and expectedly, work.

With a hop, skip, and a play, the console whirred and began to start the song, only for Ruby to hit pause immediately.

Ignoring Fox’s splutter of protest, she turned to her partner, cocking an eyebrow seriously.

“Ready, Weiss?”

“Um, sure,” was the woman’s reply.

“No, no, you have to say ‘ready.’ It’s like, a partner thing.”

“Ruby–”

“Weiss, I sang this song with my sister forty times over, and we always said ‘ready’ at the start. It’d be a little weird not to now.”

“Really?”

“Close, but that’s not the word I’m looking for.”

Weiss sighed heavily at that, sending her bangs upwards. Still, expectant silver eyes remained focused on her – Weiss tilted an eyebrow, then relented.

“Fine. Ready.”

Ruby broke into a grin, turning back to the remote. Weiss picked up her microphone gently, as though it were an explosive of some kind, and carefully examined it. Duct tape, cracked plastic, and what looked like bits of glitter adorned the mic, evidence of a well-used life.

“Hey, Weiss.”

Ruby’s words drew her from her brief reverie, causing her to glance up, finding the redhead staring back at her once more, a deeply serious and completely out of place look on her face.

“Yes?”

Ruby stared for a little longer before she answered.

“Can you do the laugh?”

Weiss blinked, knowing exactly what she was talking about.

“Because I absolutely cannot.”

White brows furrowed at both Ruby’s sincerity and the sudden realization of just what she was about to embark on.

“Uh–”

Ruby misread her tone of sudden panic as one of assurance, and grinned as she picked up her own mic.

“Great!” the redhead said, “Here we go!”

Sure enough, the screen read ‘HAHAHAHAHA,” at the bottom in block letters, as the title screen faded away and the cue for the song to start appeared. Worry, thick and suffocating, crawled its way up Weiss’s throat and, for a moment, froze her just as her namesake implied. Her words caught, her voice frozen – and then, for the second time in the past hour, Ruby gently took a hold of her hand.

The redhead wasn’t even looking, and probably didn’t even know what she’d just done with her simple gesture, but it worked anyways. The heaviness – that felt like familiar hands clasping her shoulders tight _, stand straight Weiss, act as I tell you –_ faded away into the background like ambient noise.

The warmth in Ruby’s grip was, for a moment, all she was aware of.

Then the pinging cue of the start of the song rang out and pulled her attention away – and this time, Weiss wasn’t scared. She closed her eyes, and let it go.

“AhAHAhahAHahAHA!”

Had Fox been drinking anything, he probably would have spat it out and given his resident company a free shower. As it was, the surprised laughter that threatened to burst of out him was enough to make him choke, and immediately fake coughed to try and cover it up. Beside him, Yatsuhashi had gone from a relaxed slump to sitting ramrod straight, surprise straightening his spine like nothing else could.

Even Ruby had turned around to stare at Weiss in shock, the laugh she’d let loose having sounded completely hysterical, with a cracking voice and all. Thankfully for Weiss, however, the white haired woman’s eyes were shut tight.

The TV faithfully reminded the pair that there was still a song going on, with a loud ‘YO!’ that split the suspended moment.

Ruby yelped, fumbling with her mic before she joined Weiss in following along with the lyrics, their words rushed and nervous and completely off key.

_“I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want!”_

Fox slammed his hands over his mouth, fingers splayed tight in an attempt to keep his laughter in – he might not have been able to see the pair, but the embarrassment was tangible enough in their voices.

“So tell me what you want, what you really, really want!”

Yatsuhashi exhaled _very_ audibly out of his nose.

“I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want!”

Ruby was very quickly feeling the social anxiety coming on, love for karaoke be damned.

“So tell me what you want, what you really, really want!”

Weiss was redder than a chilli pepper.

“I wanna–”

“Ha!”

“I wanna–”

“Ha!”

“I wanna–”

“Ha!”

“I wanna–”

“Ha!”

Fox’s laughter dissolved into a silent type, shaking his shoulders as he leaned forwards.

“I really, really, really wanna–”

“ZIGAZIG AH!”

Weiss’s palm slammed down on the pause button so hard that it nearly cracked the remote.

There were no complaints from the others. Ruby was sitting in shock, still enough to qualify as a statue. Fox was completely bent over, muffling his laughter in his knees. Yatsuhashi gave no indication that he had not died and ascended to the afterlife during the opening chorus.

They sat in a very empty, hollow silence. The Spice Girls did not back them up. The rest of the arcade carried on around them.

Then Fox’s control burst, and he spilled into laughter. The two very, _very_ embarrassed young women across from him glared – a moment later, realizing that glaring had no effect whatsoever, Weiss pitched the remote at him. Followed by her microphone. Then she reached for Ruby’s microphone, who refused to give it up.

“Nope, not paying the damage deposit for this!” Ruby defended, tugging back on the mic with all her mic.

“I can pay for the entire damn arcade if I want to – _Ruby, give me the mic!”_

“Nope! Nope!”

The pair dissolved into an all-out tugging war, made a little bit more challenging with the handcuffs in play. Yatsuhashi had lifted a pillow as his defense against any other flying plastic objects; Fox had apparently begun crying.

“Weiss–” Ruby began, “Weiss, we’re waking a bean!

She’d meant to say ‘making a scene,’ but enunciating was a little hard with Weiss’s elbow stuffed into her cheek. Still, it got the point across. Weiss let go like the mic was on fire, sending Ruby toppling backwards at the sudden lack of resistance – which, in turn, pulled Weiss forwards on top of her.

For the second time that evening, they found themselves in a very unfortunate and highly inappropriate position, Weiss very much on top of Ruby.

Fox, who had just begun recovering from his bout of extreme laughter, heard the quiet play-by-play from Yatsuhashi, and promptly broke down once more.

Instead of the anticipated, angry response that usually would have come first, Weiss opted to just give in, slumping completely over, and essentially burying her face in Ruby’s chest.

“I give up,” came the muffled explanation, “I can’t do this. Please just take the handcuffs off already.”

“U-Um, Weiss?” Ruby was red enough to live up to her name tenfold, trying desperately to ignore the way people had noticed their position, “Weiss, can you get off now?”

“No,” was the flat reply, “I told you, I give up.”

Ruby swallowed audibly, sweating and trying to figure out how to phrase their position in a way that wouldn’t cause her partner to kill her. Dates that ended in homicide weren’t always the best for publicity purposes.

“Weiss–” she began, and was promptly cut off.

“Nope.”

“Weiss, you–”

“Nope.”

“ _Weiss you really need to get off okay people are staring and you really want to get up right now trust me–”_

Whether it was the sudden speed of Ruby’s words, the desperation in her tone, or just a general sudden awareness was uncertain – either way, Weiss didn’t reply. The air filled with a tension, as though the woman were just starting to take in her position – a moment later, Ruby realized that was exactly what was going on.

A hand slowly, hesitantly reached up and landed gently beside Weiss’s head, on top of Ruby’s chest. The pause that came after seemed long enough for an ice age to come and go. One could almost hear Weiss’s brain processing the information. The pause extended, then–

Weiss shot backwards immediately, at a speed most would consider either impossible or only an option when running from an act of god. The force of the movement yanked Ruby forwards with a yelp, the redhead falling forwards – for a moment, it seemed as though their positions would simply be reversed.

Weiss’s knee, however, had other ideas.

Ruby met it chest-on, effectively stopping both her momentum and her breath.

Yatsuhashi was there in an instant, helping her up as the redhead wheezed for air, the wind effectively knocked from her chest. Weiss’s embarrassment was immediately replaced by worry and guilt; Fox appeared a moment later, all traces of his laughter gone.

Ruby shook them – and the handcuffs chain – off with a series of waves, wheezing and smiling with tears at the corners of her eyes.

“I – wheeze – ‘m – wheeze – fine!”

“Ruby–”

One large, deep breath, and Ruby grinned as best she could and spoke in a full sentence.

“The best dates take your breath away!”

Clearly, she was Yang’s sister.

Weiss stared at the woman, her mouth wide enough that it was basically asking for a ‘catching flies’ joke. Fox and Yatsuhashi gawked for a good moment, before their concern and shock broke into gentle amusement, and they fell into relieved chuckles.

Ruby was still grinning, though her smile fell slightly when she noticed her partner still gaping at her.

“Weiss? You okay? You’re starting to look like a Magikarp.”

No reply, but the white haired woman closed her mouth and looked down, bangs cast over her eyes.

“You…”

Ruby leaned in to hear her better, which turned out to be an unfortunate decision.

“You idiot!”

Weiss all but smacked the living daylights out of Ruby with the couch cushion, which burst out enough dust to throw them all into a coughing fit. In between hacks, Fox leaned towards Yatsuhashi and whispered.

“Totally a tsundere.”

Thankfully his comment went unnoticed, as it would have likely caused him to be brained by the cushion, too.

Ruby regained her voice first, staring indignantly at her partner.

“Weiiiss!” she drawled, “First you knee me in the chest, then you bean me with a pillow?”

Weiss’s face screwed up in some kind of warped expression, too many mixed emotions for Ruby to read properly. The redhead wouldn’t know it yet, but the crease between her eyebrows, the tilt at their tips – the seemingly cold woman had been worried.

Weiss had been worried for Ruby’s well-being, and then the woman had sprung up with a pun – it had been too much for Weiss’s sheltered sense of mannerisms to take. The natural response, which was in many ways completely unnatural, had been to retaliate.

But, as the part of her that sounded less like her family and a lot more like her friends helpfully pointed out, that probably shouldn’t have been the response she took.

Ruby’s indignation faded away, realizing that Weiss hadn’t replied, her features still stuck in that troublesome expression.

“Hey, Weiss? I’m kidding, it’s okay–”

“I’m sorry.”

The rest of Ruby’s reassurances stopped in her throat, stuck at the suddenly honest voice of the woman before her.

“What?”

The redhead’s question was rhetorical, but Weiss answered it all the same.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, “for both the knee and the cushion.”

Ruby blinked, then smiled comfortingly.

“It’s okay,” she replied, “Yang always did say that I had a hard head.”

Weiss didn’t have a response for that, throwing them all into silence. Fox and Yatsuhashi had returned to their cushions, surprisingly giving the pair room for their moment. Ruby’s gaze, pointedly avoiding landing on Weiss’s face, drifted down to the microphone that had been dropped in the kerfuffle.

Her brow furrowed as she recalled her partner’s earlier comment.

“Hey, Weiss,” she said, drawing the woman’s attention back to her, “what did you mean before when you said you could buy out the arcade?”

“WELL, would you look at the time, we’d better get back to finishing the song!”

Not the smoothest of segues, Schnee.

“What?” Ruby’s frown deepened with confusion, “but you said–”

“I think what Weiss means,” Fox interrupted, saving Weiss’s rapidly sinking ship, “is that she realized she’s not getting out of tonight’s festivities, no matter how many inappropriate positions she gets herself into.”

Not the smoothest of escape routes either, but Weiss took it anyways, albeit with a frosty glare.

“Exactly, thank you, Fox,” Weiss commandeered the conversation, pointedly casting off the former questions as subtly as one might dump a body off the back of a boat.

She easily caught the microphone tossed back to her, dodging the remote that followed. Ruby caught it instead, picking up her own mic a moment later. The song had gone back to the menu in their absence, but a small “resume” at the corner of the screen shone bright. It appeared that they hadn’t done enough of the song to count as worth their Lien; restarts were also an option.

Ruby glanced at it, then back towards Weiss.

“Resume, or should we just restart?”

Weiss pondered the question seriously, focusing her gaze on the mic clenched tightly in her hand. The glitter shone back at her, the duct tape smooth beneath her fingers – hesitancy tinged her thoughts once more.

A gentle hand entered her field of vision, resting upon her wrist lightly, drawing her view back up to Ruby’s worried expression.

“Hey,” the redhead’s words were soft, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

The younger woman swallowed, and turned towards the pair on the other couch.

“Right?”

Fox grumbled something about missed entertainment at Ruby’s question, but Yatsuhashi nodded affirmatively. Satisfied, the redhead turned back to face Weiss.

“Are you still okay to continue?”

Whether it was the warmth of her hand, the warmth in her voice, or just the genuine concern for her partner’s well-being, Weiss didn’t know. Either way, she felt the last tendrils of worry being chased away – the white haired woman wasn’t one to trust deeply, but with Ruby, she somehow didn’t mind the situation anymore.

“Yes,” Weiss’s voice felt rusty, like she hadn’t used it in a long time. She paused, then smiled.

“But Fox is doing the laugh this time, not me.”

The protests were completely ignored by Yatsuhashi, who dutifully passed his friend a spare mic.

Ruby laughed easily, turning and navigating their way through the menu to ‘restart.’ With her spare hand still on Weiss’s, she turned to face her partner, smiling gently.

“Ready?”

Weiss smiled back, ignoring Fox’s mutter of ‘okay Hazel Grace, we’re all happy you have your own version of the Fault in Our Stars, but can you get on with it?’

“Ready.”

Ruby grinned, and pressed play.

Fox did the laugh – and sounded much like a dying donkey – with Yatsuhashi’s firm grip on his shoulder, brooking no argument from the smaller man. Weiss smiled at the clear displeasure in Fox’s expression – just desserts – before she and Ruby began to sing the opening chorus once more.

They fell into it easily this time, the previous tension and worry easing off their shoulders just enough to almost enjoy it. In some part of their minds, the reminder that they were loudly singing a throwback pop song in the middle of a crowded room still existed, but neither really paid much attention to it.

The pair maintained a pattern of sorts, alternating between lines with an interesting sort of harmony, mixing voices on the shared lines. Through the chorus, the verse, all the way up to the second ‘zigazigah,’ they lasted just fine, a kind of childish excitement brewing the whole way.

The moment they reached ‘if you wanna be my lover,’ it spilled over, and both of them finally started enjoying it.

“You gotta get with my friends.”

“Gotta get with my frieeeends~”

Ruby echoed Weiss in a high falsetto, who tried not to laugh into her microphone. Fox was tapping his foot, face in a wide grin – Yatsuhasi had crossed his arms, tapping his fingers to the beat.

“If you wanna be my lover” – Ruby swapped hands with the mic, pointing towards Weiss with the free one – “you have got to give.”

“Taking is too easy but that’s the way it is!”

Weiss snagged Ruby’s mic on the last line, echoing the lyrics and laughing at the look on Ruby’s face. She regretted her decision only moments later.

The music key changed, shifting from the song they both knew into a remixed version – and, Ruby realized with horror, jumping into the part of the song that Yang always called ‘freestyle.’

And Weiss had both mics.

That was when the white haired woman realized what part of the song was about to start.

Ruby was expecting her to freak out, to throw the mics back at her upon realizing her dire situation – Ruby, however, turned out to be wrong.

Whether it was a giddiness high from the song, a hysterical breakdown brought on by the evening’s events, or just a nostalgia-induced slip up, Ruby would never know. Either way, Weiss broke easily into a better rendition of the ‘freestyle verse’ than she’d ever heard Yang perform.

“SO here’s a story from A to Z, you wanna get with me? You gotta listen carefully.”

Fox, Yatsuhashi, and Ruby were sitting in stunned silence when Weiss realized exactly what she was doing.

“We got Em in the place… who likes it… in your face…”

The woman’s volume trailed away, enthusiasm lost to a kind of dawning horror over what she had done. Ruby decided on the spot that she wasn’t going to let her be embarrassed over this.

She grabbed Weiss’s mic – and her hand – yanking it towards herself and belting out the next round of lyrics into it.

“YOU GOT G LIKE MC WHO LIKES IT ON A–”

Weiss joined in stutteringly for the next set of lines, blinking in surprise and watching Ruby’s face go redder than a stop sign.

“Easy V doesn’t come for free, she’s a real lady–”

“And as for me, haha, you’ll see!”

Well, at least if they were going to be embarrassed, they could do it together.

“Slam your body down and wind it all around.”

Together, indeed.

“Slam your body down and wind it all around!”

As Fox watched on in surprised amusement, Yatsuhashi nodding in understanding, the two women sang their way through the last of the song. The last, triumphant ‘zigazigah’ sounded, followed by the line that echoed out into silence.

“If you wanna be my lovah!”

Ruby and Weiss dissolved into giggles, still hanging on to the same microphone. They collapsed back into the couch, adrenaline rushes fading away and leaving them breathless. A long, slow clapping sounded from Fox’s couch, paired with a few smattering applauses from elsewhere in the arcade.

“Well,” Fox began, leaning forwards and smiling brightly, “How do you two feel?”

Weiss and Ruby both raised him a relatively – very – improper hand gesture. Yatsuhashi transcribed by tapping his hand on a relative finger; Fox only laughed.

“You two did far better than I thought you would,” he said, genuinely meaning his comment, “especially your little rap there, Weiss.”

“It’s called freestyle,” was Ruby’s comment, complete with a pointed finger raised up, then dropped heavily. Beside her, Weiss rolled her eyes, choosing not to comment on her performance. As far as she was concerned, it hadn’t happened – she was already in the process of trying to erase it from her mind (it wasn’t going spectacularly well).

“Freestyle, treestyle,” Fox replied, “either way, that was the best rendition I’ve heard anyone sing in quite a while. I’d say it passes the ‘pop song’ condition, too. Feel up to the second round?”

Ruby gripped her mic like a lifeline, straightening up and reaching for the remote.

“Let’s do this,” she proclaimed, starting to scroll through the songs again, remote beeping with each press. Fox interrupted her browsing with an ‘ah ah.’

“You already chose a song, Ruby,” he stated, “Weiss has to pick the next one.”

“What? But we…”

Fox lifted an eyebrow, though he couldn’t see the results it received. Ruby grumbled, and handed the remote to Weiss, before inspiration struck in a flash of thought and a flare of nostrils.

She gestured for her partner to lean in, whispering something in Weiss’s ear that earned a surprised eyebrow lift. With a glance at Ruby that spoke volumes of ‘really?’, Weiss sighed, shrugged, and scrolled to find the suggested song.

Fox sat in silence, unable to see what was appearing on the screen – then Yatsuhashi sighed heavily beside him, and Ruby broke into titters.

The familiar voice of Smash Mouth burst out of the speakers.

“SomeBODY–”

“No.”

Fox interrupted the song immediately, Ruby whining in complaint.

“But it’s All Star!”

“I know exactly what song it is, Rose.”

“It counts as a classic!”

“I hardly think anything off the Shrek soundtrack counts as a classic.”

“Well, why couldn’t you have answered that question sooner? I asked it ages ago.”

“Wha – oh, for crying out loud. Did you really waste a Lien on choosing this?”

“Uh, maybe?”

“That’s coming out of your pocket, Rose – Okay, can someone turn it off? It’s very hard to talk with the sweet whisperings of Smash Mouth in the background.”

There was a good deal of grumbling, but the musical overtones of Shrek cut off shortly.

“Thank you,” Fox said, receiving a mocking rendition of his own words from Ruby, “Now, Rose, Weiss had better have the remote, as she’s the _only_ one who will pick the next one. Weiss, please don’t take any more suggestions from Ruby.”

Weiss scrolled in silence, a clearly miffed Ruby watching from beside her. She scrawled through the list once, then went back up – several minutes passed, then she finally rested on a single song. Yatsuhashi and Ruby both blinked in surprise.

“Really?”

Ruby’s voice was filled with disbelief, causing Weiss to frown.

“It’s a classic.”

“I know, but… You? _Really?_ ”

Fox had to ask.

“Wait, what did she pick?”

“A good song.”

Yatsuhashi’s answer was brief and to the point, Weiss nodding and gesturing towards him.

“See? He agrees that it’s a good selection.”

“No, Weiss, it is a good song, I just – I didn’t expect _you_ to pick it, is all.”

“Well, it’s one of the few ones I’m okay with singing here. Will it work?”

“Oh, uh – sure! Sure. Yeah.”

Weiss nodded at this, snagging a Lien from the table and handing it to Ruby. The coin was inserted, the song was pressed to play, and a bass beat so loud that it caused the couch cushions to vibrate blasted out of the TV.

A moment, as they all took this in. Then–

“Is that… Dancing Queen?”

The silence answered everything, and the incredibly bass boosted ABBA song continued to draw the attention of pretty much everyone around them.

Fox laughed as Weiss and Ruby picked up their mics resignedly, stuck with the song.

“How did you manage to find a bass boosted version of _Dancing Queen_?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Weiss muttered, before the lyrics began scrolling across the screen.

Say what you will about ABBA. Say they’re good, say they’re bad, say they’re old – it doesn’t really matter. Because if there’s one true fact about ABBA, it’s that if you play a song – _especially_ if that song is Dancing Queen – then you will draw a crowd. It’s an unstated truth to the universe.

And it was a fact that Weiss and Ruby were very, very much learning, to their lack of enjoyment.

It’s one thing to sing karaoke when no one is watching, it’s another thing to sing around others, and it is an entirely new third thing to sing with a rapidly gathering crowd of strangers around you.

Ruby was quickly finding, as they pulled into the chorus, that she didn’t like the third option very much at all.

“See that girl, watch that scene–”

“–digging the anxiety~”

Weiss blinked; _that_ certainly wasn’t the lyrics written on the screen. She glanced at her cohort in song, thankful for the brief instrumental bit going on, and found Ruby to no longer be as red as her name would suggest – instead, she was pale, and gripping her mic tight enough that the plastic seemed it would crack any second.

Weiss wasn’t exactly a comforter; she was cold, and about as embraceable as an igloo. Reassurances and consolation didn’t exactly come easily to her, but Ruby was now nervous as she had been, and Weiss wasn’t cold enough to abandon her well-being.

So she stole a page from her partner’s book, and reached out with a handcuffed arm to lay her palm on Ruby’s clenched hands. Silver met cyan, and Weiss could only smile comfortingly, the only words she could find sincere and calm.

“Don’t worry.”

She glanced at the screen for a moment – a reprise of the chorus was coming on, then likely the song would be over. This was something she could do; her gaze drifted back to Ruby, and she smiled again, placing her hand overtop Ruby’s microphone.

“I’ll sing for the both of us.”

Then the music kicked up, her cue came, and Weiss began to sing in full.

Weiss had always been a singer.

“You are the dancing queen~”

Ever since she showed talent when she was young, she’d gone through music lessons, through multiple teachers and talent shows and eventually concerts.

“Young and sweet, only seventeen~”

She’d been a star, a showstopper – as her family expected her to be. She’d practiced until perfect, sung songs to their full potential.

“You can dance, you can jive~”

But what she’d never told anyone, was that her favourite part of singing wasn’t the applause, wasn’t being perfect, wasn’t even being the best.

“Having the time of your life~”

It was just singing her heart out.

“Digging the dancing queen!”

Had Weiss opened her eyes – and she’d closed them the moment she’d begun to sing, to avoid seeing the very reaction she’d received – she would have found not only Ruby, but half the arcade staring back at her.

Weiss Schnee had always been a singer; even when she stopped singing, that had never changed. When Weiss Schnee sang, you listened; that’s how it had always been.

The song faded out, Weiss opened her eyes, and the entire arcade burst into applause.

Ruby was staring at her, wide-eyed with a hint of gratitude in her awestruck smile. Fox was caught somewhere between a smirk and a knowing smile; Yatsuhashi was looking on with an amused sort of pride. Quite the crowd had gathered around them, some drunken, some drawn in just for the drama.

Weiss let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, the cheers carrying on around her. Ruby stared at her for a moment longer, holding up a hand for a high five. Weiss glanced at it, back at her partner, and then, with a completely straight-face, fist bumped it.

Ruby probably couldn’t look more surprised if she tried. She shook her head after another moment of staring, and smiled with a sense of awe.

“We’ll work on that,” she said, though there was no heat in her words, only heart.

Weiss smiled back, when a hand clapped warmly on her shoulder shook them out of their moment and brought them immediately back into the noisy arcade. Yatsuhashi had gotten up and moved to stand beside them, likely keeping the crowd from pressing in on them too much. He smiled warmly down at them, as the applause began to fade out.

“Well, Weiss, I didn’t think you’d actually sing for real,” Fox commented, the smile on his face showing his true enjoyment for the performance, “I think it’s safe to say that these ratty couches have never seen anything quite like _that_.”

He cleared his throat, leaning back before pointing at the last remaining coin on the table.

“That said, you still have one more performance to go,” he continued, before his impish grin overtook his expression, “and I think you’ll be glad you gathered a crowd, for this next one.”

Ruby frowned; Weiss did the same, until realization dawned and her frown was replaced with sudden horror. With extraordinarily dramatic timing from a man who couldn’t even see expressions, Fox smiled cheekily and finished his point.

“After all, I get to pick the last song.”

The groans that rose from the handcuff partners’ couch were audible amongst the chattering crowd behind them. The pair slumped back into their seats, Ruby’s groan extending almost comically. She dropped an arm over her eyes as the sound of misery petered out, before it slid away and she turned to glance towards Weiss.

Resigned, but determined cyan stared back at her.

Ruby offered up the best smile she could, lifting her eyebrows as she spoke.

“Ready?”

There was a pause.

“Ready.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! This fic will never die, don't worry. It will simply resurrect every four months or so, when I finally get around to writing a new chapter. Hopefully this one worked for all of you; lyrics are a nightmare to write with, so I hope it isn't awkward to read. Bumblebee's up next - a nice, long exposition chapter, too! - but I won't make any promises on when that'll be up; evidently, I never meet my own deadlines.
> 
> Also, a disclaimer: I own none of the song lyrics - those go to the Spice Girls for Wannabe, and ABBA for Dancing Queen. On that note, I owe a long over due disclaimer to the fact that I don't own RWBY at all, either. All I have to my name are bad jokes, a bunch of cliches, and puns. Most of which I probably found on the internet.
> 
> See you in the next chapter!


	18. Secret Iden-Kitties

The problem with being a superhero, Sun had once told her, was that someday, someone would figure out your secret identity. Blake had rolled her eyes at his ‘sagely’ advice – no doubt ripped off from the real Sage that they both knew – but had stored it away in the back of her mind regardless.

Despite his more-than-questionable track record when it came to sound advice, Sun had a habit of being ridiculously perceptive. Of course, half the time that was aimed towards teasing her about crushes, but the blond faunus did occasionally weigh in on more introspective matters.

Though everyone had secrets they wanted to hide, Blake would begrudgingly have to admit that hers were a little more pressing than others.

Namely, the fact that she was a graffiti-spraying, ex-activist vigilante who had painted the town and thwarted authorities for years. That had a great deal to do with her draw towards secrets, or her ‘mysterious side~’, as Sun would call it, with the verbal flourish and everything.

Still, Blake liked to think she had done pretty well with hiding her ‘Batman side,’ complete with dead parents and a strong sense of vigilante justice. She’d kept her activities to the dark, any and all evidence stored away in safe houses secret even to her closest friends (and herself, when she forgot where they were).

Hiding away her alter ego had become second nature to Blake, at that point. Lily Fang, it seemed, was destined to always be her secret identity.

Until she’d been handcuffed to a blonde that had a warm smile and an even warmer heart, and Blake forgot the meaning of ‘secret.’

Yang’s laugh was loud enough to scare away the ghosts of the past, and her grin was bright enough to light up even the darkest corners in Blake’s mind – sappy as it sounded, the dark haired woman had to admit that there was something about her blonde, buxom partner that made her forget how much she had to hide. Yang, for whatever reason, had won over her trust.

And it was that trust that led Blake to leading the both of them to her safehouse, climbing up the creaky fire escape and effectively escaping their authoritative tail. Despite every survival instinct she had screaming for her to turn around, chase the blonde away, not give her cover up, Blake let her partner in.

She could almost hear Scarlet’s words now.

_Ooh, we won’t ask her out for coffee, but we’ll invite her to our secret safehouse that not even our closest friends know the location of. Nice going, Belladonna, you’ve really got your priorities in the right place._

A sudden sound from the blonde startled Blake from her reverie.

“I…”

A dark eyebrow crooked above amber eyes, watching as Yang’s gaze landed on everything but Blake – shifting from the symbol, to the couch, to the paint cans, the window, the walls, the handcuffs – until finally, running out of other things to look at, her eyes fell onto Blake.

The expression on her face was nothing near what the brunette had expected – there was no apprehension, no anger, not even a hint of distrust.

Instead, against all expectations, guilt was woven into Yang’s face like thread into a tapestry.

In this case, a _very_ expressive tapestry, featuring gold and several shades of red.

Blake’s brows furrowed as she took in the reddening face of the blonde – her eyes had moved on from Blake, bouncing around between the paintings with the ferocity of an Olympic ping-pong match. Blonde brows were scrunched together, a dawning realization embedding itself deep in the resulting wrinkles.

A moment of silence stretched out between them, thick with tension and confusion from Yang’s trailed-off phrase.

Then, with the sluggishness of Atlas crumbling beneath his globe, Yang groaned and lifted her hands to cover her extraordinarily red face.

Blake’s curiosity reached its breaking point.

“Yang?”

A second or two passed, before a single lilac pupil peeked out from between splayed fingers. The blonde mumbled something near unintelligible, before the gates of her fingers slid shut once more.

Blake blinked once, twice, trying to decide if she’d really heard the blonde correctly.

“Did – did you say–”

If the way the tips of Yang’s ears were beginning to join her face in their tomato hue was any indication, Blake had heard the words perfectly.

“Did you say you ran a _blog_ about me?”

Yang groaned again, enjoying her digit defense for a moment longer, before she lifted her face from her hands.

“Yes…” she admitted begrudgingly, the confession wrought with a kind of sudden regret. The red splashed all the way down to her neck did nothing to help her subtlety.

Blake blinked in surprise again, before she burst into giggles, pulling her free hand up to try and muffle the sounds at Yang’s half-guilty, half-incensed look.

“I’m sorry,” she coughed out through giggles, “it’s just–”

Her hand did nothing to help as Blake lost her last semblance of self-control, and broke down into full on laughter. Yang grumbled something unintelligible, dropping her hands completely to lift one to scratch at the back of her neck awkwardly.

“Yeah, yeah,” she groused, glancing away from her snickering partner.

Blake reached the end of her laughter, a couple last chuckles making their way out as Yang seemingly decided to own her new sunburnt style.

“If it makes any difference,” Yang added grumpily, “Ruby’s the one who wrote the fanfiction.”

The sudden fact threatened to send Blake into another fit of giggles. She managed to suppress them, however, deciding with the sympathy of a god to spare the blonde from even more embarrassment. Yang herself had gone back to examining the walls, though whether it was out of curiosity or simply needing a break from Blake’s slightly-judgmental glare was anyone’s guess.

Blake decided it was more the former, watching as the blonde stared open mouth at the various paintings, shuffling her feet restlessly. Blake smiled, before she jangled the chain to catch her partner’s attention.

“Go ahead,” Blake said once Yang’s gaze was back on her, “check them out.”

With the same enthusiasm as a small child in a toy store, Yang eagerly obliged, nearly dragging Blake across the room as she went up close to examine the walls.

The pair stood in silence for several minutes, Blake letting Yang soak up as many details as she could, feeling more than a slight well of pride at the clear wonderment in lilac eyes. After five minutes or so of silent examination, however, Blake’s curiosity won out once more.

“So,” she began, eyeing Yang as the blonde started in surprise, “a blog?”

Yang’s cheeks, which were finally starting to recover from their sudden urge to emulate a ketchup bottle, sprang back into full colour. To her credit, the blonde tried to play it off as best she could.

“Well, yeah,” Yang began, the casual tone of her voice lifting a single dark eyebrow, “it’s not like half the town _didn’t_ admire your work.”

Blake chuckled lightly at that – Yang wasn’t getting off that easily.

“Yes, but half the town didn’t run blogs dedicated to it,” she replied smoothly, catching Yang’s embarrassed flinch.

Perhaps a higher person wouldn’t have pressed so much but, well, Blake had never claimed to be perfect. That, and one couldn’t go around asking for critique on an art piece when one’s work was considered ‘criminal activity.’ _On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the vandalism aesthetic?_

Blake shook her head of the thought, returning to their conversation just in time to catch Yang’s reply.

“Fine,” the blonde acquiesced, “but in my defense, half the town isn’t teenage girls with an appreciation for criminal activity.”

Well, if that didn’t get an eyebrow raise from Blake, than _nothing_ would.

“You cannot expect me to leave that as your explanation.”

Yang laughed at Blake’s flat tone, amusement clear in the sound.

“Let’s just say I was into the ‘bad crowds,’” Yang replied cryptically, shooting Blake a suggestive grin and effectively placing her eyebrows in the sport of synchronized swimming.

“I don’t doubt it,” Blake shot back flatly, “I almost have half a mind to think that wasn’t your first police chase.”

“And you would be right,” Yang laughed, “that was far from my first rodeo.”

Blake snorted at that, letting their light banter fade away as Yang glanced back up at the walls with a sort of sad nostalgia in her eyes. They stood in silence for a moment, the sounds of the city barely audible beyond their small hideaway. When Yang spoke again, it was with a hint of melancholy, seeping into her words like tea leaves in water.

“I was a bit of a rough kid,” Yang explained, her voice softer without its sarcastic edge, “and for whatever reason, your work always called out to me.”

Whatever witty comment Blake might have had was held back, empathy a stronger pull than snark.

“I always used to see your paintings whenever I was going to work or school; I don’t know _why_ , but they always meant something. And, well, I saw them a lot, and always noticed the new ones, so…”

“So, obviously, the best course of action was to start a blog about it?”

Yang chuckled, her usual volume absent.

“I think it helped, having something to look forwards to.”

The sentence was sobering, in a way – at least, for a moment, before Yang sent a wily grin at Blake.

“Want to know what my follower count was?”

Blake rolled her eyes, the soft moment lost forever. Still, she knew a topic change when she saw one – or, rather, when one practically introduced itself, complete with fanfare and flashing neon lights.

“What’s that saying?” she shot back at the blonde, “’It isn’t what you do with it, it’s the size that counts.”

Yang snorted, shaking her head.

“Touché, Belladonna,” she said with a grin, before frowning contemplatively, “Wait, remind me again how we went from your super secret, vigilante vandalism backstory to my embarrassing teenage blog?”

“Oh, please,” Blake laughed easily, amber eyes alight with mischief, “Secret, dark renditions of a troubled past? I’m sure the audience has heard enough of those already.”

She shot Yang a sly grin, perking a dark eyebrow at the blonde.

“Teenage blogs dedicated to said troubled pasts, on the other hand…”

Yang grumbled something under her breath before properly replying.

“So it’s chick flicks up against the purpose-burdened vigilante movies?” she asked, her voice dropping into a poor imitation of a wrestling commentator, “Aaaaand tonight, we pit Mary “Infatuation Sensation” Sue against Gary “Hot Topic” Grimm!”

Blake shot her partner a withering look.

“Hot Topic?” the brunette repeated incredulously.

“Hey, it’s not my fault your genre has the emotional weight of an edgy plastic bag,” Yang shot back immediately.

Blake snorted, rolling her eyes as Yang carried on.

“Besides, if you ask me, there’s no way every teenage girl trope would win when up against some dark superhero flick. With the exception of Mean Girls, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Perfectly logical, glad you agree. But really, backstories are usually _way_ cooler in superhero movies – like, you’re some secret vigilante like Batman, sans the dead parents and everything.”

Blake hummed thoughtfully at that.

“Actually,” she added on helpfully, “enormous family fortune, no. Dead parents – _yes_.”

The myriad of emotions that passed over Yang’s face was too quick to differentiate between, but it did end up on the unmistakable expression of amazement.

“Oh my god,” Yang began, her voice soft and shrouded slightly with awe, “Blake, you _are_ the Batman.”

The laugh that burst from Blake caught them both off guard, honest and sudden. Her hands immediately leapt to her mouth, cuffs jingling as Yang’s arm was pulled along in the motion – startled amber met surprised lilac, holding contact for a long moment.

Then Blake broke into giggles, Yang joining in a moment later. Their chuckles faded away, the mood lightened in spite of the rather morbid topic the pair were laughing over.

The blonde shook her head, turning back to glance up at one of the sprawling paintings that plastered the walls.

“Please tell me that somewhere, somehow, you painted a self portrait of yourself as Batman.”

Blake grinned toothily, unable to resist the opportunity.

“You should probably know that, Miss Blog-Runner.”

Yang groaned dramatically, the sound drawn out long past its expiration date.

“Are you ever going to let that go?”

To her credit, Blake at least pretended to consider the question for more than two seconds.

“Hmm… Nope.”

Yang scoffed at the completely predictable answer, shaking her head as she closed her eyes, blonde tossing every which way. She paused in her wet golden retriever impression, going still before she lifted her head, a single lilac eye opening slightly to squint at Blake.

When the fairly intense examination held, Blake blinked with apprehension, uneasy under the blonde’s scrutiny. To her relief, Yang dropped the stare a moment later, turning her gaze back to the walls.

“Fine,” came her voice a moment later, “but I’m not going to let the Batman thing go until I know the backstory.”

The silence that fell was almost uncomfortable, Blake quiet and Yang suddenly realizing the weight of her demand. The blonde backpedalled almost immediately.

“T-the joke, I mean!” Yang corrected, her words stumbling in her rush to explain, “Obviously you don’t have to tell me everything – you don’t even need to tell me anything, actually, I don’t mean to push – I just meant keeping up the title and –”

“Yang.”

The blonde’s ramble cut off abruptly at her partner’s flat interruption.

Anxious lilac met calm, determined amber.

“It’s alright,” Blake continued, Yang still frozen by the sound of her name, “I don’t mind.”

Blonde brows furrowed as Yang tried to process the answer.

“The… the joke?”

Blake shook her head at the question, before smiling softly.

“Telling you,” she elaborated, before the smile slipped away, and she met Yang’s stare head-on.

“I trust you.”

For a moment, Blake only watched the emotions pass through Yang’s expression at her words; she wasn’t sure she’d ever met someone with such honest eyes. The blonde held eye contact, clearly searching for something in Blake’s own expression.

After a moment, Yang sighed, dropping her gaze to the floor, closing her eyes and exhaling heavily. Then lilac opened once more, and Yang straightened up, lifting her free hand to push back the hair that had fallen over her eyes.

“Alright,” she said, before she turned to look back at Blake, “just as long as I’m not pressuring you.”

The honest concern in the blonde’s voice was enough to lift the corners of Blake’s mouth once more.

“You’re not,” Blake affirmed, and somewhere in the back of her mind a voice that sounded oddly familiar began muttering something about superheroes.

They fell into a soft, patient silence – Yang, waiting for Blake to speak, and Blake trying to get her words to fall into something resembling a story.

“Lily Fang,” she began, and the weight of the name fell heavy on her shoulders, for a moment, “is my secret identity.”

The words fell gently, followed by a steady silence. Yang didn’t press her to continue, and Blake’s gaze found itself examining the chain that linked them together, silver light glinting off the metal cuffs.

“The city gave me the name, in many ways,” Blake continued, watching the way her fingers interlaced, then fell apart, again and again, “I suppose in that sense, I’m not like Batman at all. I didn’t get to pick my title, but I did choose my weapon.”

Amber eyes flicked up to meet attentive lilac, chains rattling slightly as Blake opened her arms, gesturing at the walls and the crate of paint cans.

“But I…”

Blake trailed off, hands falling slowly back to her sides as the words failed to come. A heavier silence settled over them, with a weight like a first snowfall, softening the sharp corners and muting the noise from the world. There was a slight tension to the air, expectant, like an audience sitting before an orchestra poised to play – but Blake was their conductor, and had forgotten how the music sounded.

Then Yang’s palm wrapped itself around her own, warm and heavy and etched with the notes she needed to play. Blake’s eyes shot up to meet Yang’s own, and in them she found no accusations, no demand – only calm, patient comfort, as gentle as an arm draped over one’s shoulders.

Blake breathed in, Yang smiled softly, and suddenly, the words were there.

“I was Lily Fang, long before she ever existed.”

Blonde brows furrowed in confusion, and Blake fumbled for a moment, trying to clarify.

“I mean – Well, you see–”

The warm palm squeezed once, tight, and Blake took a deep breath to collect her nerves.

“I guess a better way to put it would be to say that Lily Fang existed before people gave her a name,” she began again, this time met with understanding in lilac eyes, “This – my art – I was doing it long before I had an identity to hide behind.”

She paused, and couldn’t quite help the jolt of fear that ran up her spine.

“Lily Fang, as you know her, was the name given to my work after it began to follow a more… particular theme. After a particular event.”

Yang nodded, the first reaction she’d given beyond silent support.

“After… after the fall of the White Fang, right?”

At Yang’s hesitant, but overwhelmingly true words, Blake returned the nod.

“Yes,” Blake confirmed, and here her voice was soft with notes of regret and melancholy, “people began to notice when I began to paint over the White Fang symbols throughout the city – they called me a hero, at first, for a vigilante; they said I was doing ‘good work’ cleaning up the bad memories that the Fang had left behind.”

She swallowed, glancing towards the curling smoke that framed the stark skull, her voice taking on a low, dark tone as she continued.

“Then I added on the ears, and they began to see me a little differently.”

Yang said nothing, but she shifted slightly, and it was easy enough to read the unease in her posture.

“Once I allied myself with the Faunus, Vale didn’t seem to like their vigilante vandal quite as much as before,” Blake couldn’t keep the sour tinge of anger from seeping into her words, a bitter tea she’d learned to stomach years ago, “but I never stopped painting what I really stood for. Portraits, as you know, of both humans and Faunus alike – and my work never graced the walls of those who weren’t openly racist, a detail that police always seemed to leave out.”

There was a pause, and the tension seemed darker, angrier, like the rumbling of the sky when a storm is almost past.

“They called me a criminal,” Blake murmured, missing the way Yang’s eyes widened at the sadness that wove its way into the admission, “and they gave me a name. Lily Fang – the beauty of the artwork, with the beast in the meaning. People kept trying to catch me, trying to claim me – but it was never about the fame. It was always about the Fang.”

Yang glanced at the wall, and Blake wondered what it was about her partner that made it so easy to tell the past she’d hid away from everyone but Sun.

“I remember that,” Yang began, and Blake startled from her thoughts at the sound of her voice, “The specifics of all the locations.”

Blake blinked, then cleared her voice.

“Yes, I suppose you would.”

A minute ago, the words would have been humorous, but now they simply rang true. Yang shrugged, easy and slow, something of a smile lifting the corner of her mouth.

“Lily Fang only painted on old White Fang logos,” the blonde stated, and Blake realized she was listing information very few cared to remember, “or old Fang safehouse locations, or businesses and houses that belonged to anti-Faunus stances.”

Her lilac gaze drifted up to meet Blake’s own amber one, and in the absence of blame, there was only understanding.

“And when all the White Fang logos were gone, so was Lily Fang.”

At this, Blake smiled, glancing back towards the symbol sprayed on the wall.

“I had nothing more to give,” she explained softly, “Lily only existed as long as there was a reason for her to – and the reason was only ever to renew the White Fang.”

Yang startled.

“Renew?”

The chuckle that slipped past Blake’s lips surprised them both.

“The logos,” she clarified, “turning the perceptions of them into something more positive, again. The White Fang wasn’t always what it turned out to be; I wanted people to be able to remember that.”

“There’s beauty in this world,” Yang murmured, “There’s honesty, and truth, and good runs through our veins.”

“Of this, we are the same,” Blake finished, her voice just as reverent, “And nothing more or less.”

The silence that followed was less of Blake looking surprised, and more of her internally reeling in shock.

“… Care to explain how you can quote the old Fang pledge?” Blake asked, incredulity and poorly disguised curiosity in her tone.

Yang only laughed, the sound easy and true, before she tapped absentmindedly on her arm and spoke.

“The old mechanic’s place I used to work at,” she explained, “he belonged to the old Fang. Had this giant poster up on his wall – the pledge was hand-written on it.”

Blake didn’t miss the way her eyebrow twitched, or the way her voice wavered, but she let both pass. Some things, like rabbits down deep, dark holes, were better left unchased.

“You’d be able to surprise a great number of people with that knowledge,” Blake said, clearing her throat and moving past the lie, “It isn’t like most people care to commit the pledge to memory.”

Yang shrugged slightly, as though she hadn’t just impressed Blake.

“Well, we’ve already established that I don’t really read, so it’s not like there isn’t space up there to memorize random things,” she replied, tapping on her forehead to emphasize her point and smiling at the chuckle she earned from her partner.

Then something in her gaze shifted, and as she spoke a kind of withheld honesty slipped its way into her tone.

“It’s why I loved your work so much,” Yang admitted, and the words were soft, as though she hadn’t meant to speak them aloud.

Blake tipped her head inquisitively, lilac eyes flicking up to meet her own at the gentle motion. Yang swallowed, and something like fear worked its way into her expression. She gestured to the paintings, to the old Fang symbol that wore weathered age on the wall.

“You let people remember the good in what used to be,” Yang elaborated, and there was something bitter in her voice, “Your art wasn’t there just to make a statement; it was to remind the world what the White Fang used to be, to show people that not everything starts off terrible, and that sometimes – sometimes there’s good intentions behind bad actions.”

Her voice dropped, and Blake realized that Yang’s gaze had, too.

“You proved that people start out as good, even if they can’t stay that way,” Yang finished, “And – and I don’t know. To a scrappy kid fighting in the underground, it meant a lot.”

She shrugged with her last admission, but the action wasn’t as easy or careless as before, and Blake saw it for what it was – a sham, an act, and one that had been displayed for years beforehand. Hurt ran deep, and Yang didn’t want to show it.

Blake shuffled her feet, her weight shifting from one foot to the other. The sound seemed deafening in the awkward silence that had settled after Yang’s words, neither woman meeting the other’s gaze. Blake, for all her words and wisdom, had never been the best at comforting others.

But for Yang, she knew, she had to try.

“It wasn’t just about the Fang.”

Lilac eyes drifted up to Blake, the words terse and tense, matching the tight expression on the woman’s face.

Blake swallowed, glanced at Yang, and continued.

“It wasn’t just the old Fang I was remembering,” she explained, watching appreciation and consolation dance in the amethyst gaze, “it – it was my relative, too. The one I mentioned before.”

She glanced back to the wall, lilac following amber, to the bull who shadowed the panther, eyes bright and determined and void of the anger that had followed later.

“Adam.”

The name rang heavy in the silence, all of Yang’s attention back to Blake. The dark haired woman wrung her hands uneasily, her blonde partner quickly catching on to her discomfort.

“Blake, you don’t have to–”

“I do.”

The sincerity in Blake’s voice surprised them both, the words firm and brooking no argument. Yang blinked, startled by her resolve, and Blake smiled gently at her for it.

“I do, Yang,” she explained, her tone softer now, “because in many ways, Adam’s the reason Lily Fang truly exists.”

She turned, then slowly walked to the wall with the smoke and skull, Yang trailing slightly behind. The concrete was cool against her fingertips, the familiar texture of the worn paint smooth and scratchy, at the same time. Blake smiled, turning back to face her partner.

“You asked for the backstory of Lily Fang,” Blake began, speaking faster when she saw Yang’s eyes widen in realization, “and I told you I was her long before she ever existed. That much is true, but there’s another part to it.”

She turned back to the painting, to the panther that circled round on the wall.

“Before I was ever her, I was Belle.”

Blake turned back to face Yang, just in time to catch the blonde’s reaction to the words. It had been a long shot, and one into the deepest dark, that Yang would recognize the name – but Blake was a marksman, and it had paid off. There was no mistaking the realization in her partner’s expression.

With a smile, Blake continued to speak, the words coming easier the more she looked at her partner.

“In some ways, I was born into the White Fang,” she explained, “My parents – at least, the little that I remember of them – fought for Faunus rights. They passed on and passed that on, I guess.”

She smiled softly at Yang, comforting to them both.

“I stood up along with them,” Blake continued, her tone gentle and filled with notes of wistful nostalgia, “And even when they were gone, I fought for what we’d both believed in. Art – painting – was always my way to do that, even if I didn’t do it with paint cans at first. I helped the old Fang for a long time with rally signs and banners.”

Amber shifted towards the wall, alighting on the image of two small hands holding a sign tight between them.

“As I got older, it wasn’t enough. I spent years fighting for equality, and for years it didn’t seem like anything was changing – and, as you know, I wasn’t the only one feeling that way. If you really think about it, that’s when the Fang truly began to change; little acts with good intentions that eventually led way to larger ones on neutral ground.”

Yang’s expression had changed, understanding beginning to dawn in lilac eyes.

“That’s when I began the graffiti,” Blake confirmed, surprised at the calmness of her admission, “That small, seemingly useless talent that had previously only existed in the margins of notebooks _thrived_ in the streets of Vale, tinting everything with colour and anger. Lily Fang – or Belle, as I signed my work back then – was born in the night, long before Vale ever gave me a name; a young, angry girl with power in her fingertips.”

She smiled.

“There was always something empowering about literally altering the world around you, an intoxication that swallowed the anger and spat it out as colour.”

Then Blake frowned, as the weight of the words threatened to drown her voice.

“But I was far too angry to truly swallow it all.”

There was a hoarseness to her voice, a kind of blame that coated her words.

“Belle’s art wasn’t beautiful. It wasn’t inspiring or redeeming or anything that Lily’s was. It was cold, and frustrated, and filled with anger from years of the world giving nothing to us, not even an inch.”

Blake closed her eyes, her brows furrowed and her expression tight.

“And it was Adam who encouraged me to be that way,” she explained, and couldn’t help the guilt in her words, “He hadn’t been that way at the start, the same way I hadn’t been; but anger and hurt had pulled us under, and eventually when I began to return to the surface, began to realize that what I was doing was wrong, he tried to drag me back down.”

Had she opened her eyes, she would have seen the worry, the sympathy, the understanding embedded in Yang’s expression.

“But in the end, Adam was what changed the White Fang. He swayed enough people, took over the old leader, and fully changed the Fang into what it was seen as at the end; a group of violence, once driven to fight for justice and fairness, now a snarl of rebellion. We were painted a gang – and I hated that, but they weren’t entirely wrong.”

The tangled wire of her angry tone gave way to a breaking voice that held only sadness.

“Adam never was able to see what he’d become, in the end,” Blake finished, speaking with a finality of an author who has known the end for forever, but has never had the chance to share it, “As good as he’d begun, he could never change back from the anger he became blinded by. He dug his own grave, and when he finally fell into it, the White Fang followed.”

Blake opened her eyes, finding sorrowful lilac staring back; how funny it was, Blake thought, that Yang could feel remorse over a story that wasn’t her own.

“I had pulled away long before then,” Blake’s voice had grown quiet, the last of her broken bravery lingering in her words, “The surge of hatred and anger was just no longer what called to me. The group, gang, whatever they were called in the end – they burned themselves out, a gasoline fire that burned bright and lost its fuel in the blaze.”

She looked back towards the wall, and Yang followed her gaze to the dancing bull, the curling panther, the lilies and smoke that wreathed the skull.

There was silence for a moment, a tranquility that neither of them could break.

“The streets of Vale were quiet,” Blake said, and felt rather than saw Yang’s gaze return to her, “but the White Fang still remained on the walls, in people’s minds. And we both know how we felt about that.”

She smiled, and though it wasn’t a happy one, it wasn’t a sad one, either.

“And that’s when Lily Fang rose again, with a new cause and name.”

She studied the old White Fang logo, the last of its kind in the city, for a moment longer. Then she decided that the heavy silence that had settled between them was a little stifling, and blinked, turning back to Yang.

“Any questions?”

Judging by the snort that spilled past the blonde’s lips, Blake had completely caught her partner off guard with the sudden change in tone.

She chuckled at Yang’s reaction, absentmindedly taking note of the exhaustion that was quickly setting in; that was the price you paid, she supposed, for telling your superhero backstory for the first time in one sitting.

Then she noticed the slight tension in the air, the uneasy slope of Yang’s shoulders, and realized that her partner very much _did_ have questions. The familiar sensation of fear crept up her spine, the weight heavy and old, a pair of hands tightening around her throat; the same fear that choked down her words in every other circumstance, that Yang had somehow negated by simply being there, spilled back into her mind.

It was so stifling, so overwhelming, that Blake barely took notice of the way Yang pulled in a hesitant breath, looking almost as scared as Blake felt.

“Blake,” she began, and the woman in question pulled in a sudden breath, “the relative you mentioned earlier…”

Her words trailed off, the blonde shifting her weight from foot to foot as she tried to find the nerve to say the rest of her question. Then she looked up, and terrified amber shone straight into questioning lilac.

“Was that Adam?”

Blake blinked, caught off guard by the question that wasn’t the one she had been expecting. Yang took it as a sign of confusion, and began gesticulating wildly as she tried to clarify.

“I mean – the relative with the firebrand. The one you mentioned earlier, with the anger and everything.”

“Oh,” Blake said lamely, unable to pull on a more articulate sound.

She cleared her throat, the tightness in her frame loosening as she hurriedly sifted through her thoughts for a proper answer.

“Yes,” she replied after a moment, and there was a roughness in her throat, “that was Adam.”

Yang only nodded, worry still hiding in her eyes. Blake, who found herself wishing nothing but to see it leave, smiled at the blonde.

“Perceptive as always, Yang,” she continued, her partner blinking back up at her, “Adam… well, there was always anger underneath, but the firebrand only helped to bring it to the surface, and played a part in keeping him under.”

Blake shrugged gently, honesty defusing the tension that had pulled her taut, which was then replaced by a worn sadness in her tone.

“It’s less that the Firebrand turned him into the monster he became, and more that seeing the Firebrand – seeing the effects it can have on people – just reminds me of what used to be.”

There was a kind of kindred realization that became alight in Yang’s eyes,

“I said before that Adam found his anger in the bottom of the bottle,” Blake finished, “but I guess really the anger was always inside him. The bottle – the bottle just brought it out. The part of him making enemies, losing himself – that’s all true, though.”

She paused.

“He didn’t leave town, though.”

Yang looked up, surprised and simultaneously wide-eyed at the words she’d already guessed would come.

“Adam died with the White Fang,” Blake confirmed, “in more than just spirit.”

“How?”

Blake glanced at Yang, finding the blonde seemingly startled at the way her own words had suddenly slipped out.

The dark haired woman cleared her throat, glancing away before answering the question.

“His enemies caught up to him,” she explained, and her partner felt no need to ask for further clarification, “Adam didn’t have many friends left by that point, only a few faithful followers. And when neither the good side nor the bad side is on _your_ side anymore…”

Yang hummed in understanding, and Blake felt the tension change form once more, the hands that had returned around her throat shifting to lie comfortingly on her shoulders.

“I get it,” the blonde surmised, and Blake felt no small amount of relief that her partner didn’t press for more. The amount of information she’d already given was nothing short of astounding, considering her usual level of sharing, and truth be told Blake wasn’t sure how much more she could reveal.

Then Yang reminded her of just how much she _truly_ had to hide.

“Hey, Blake?”

She blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the tentative tone the blonde had used, as though talking to a spooked animal.

“Can I… I mean, do you mind if I ask…”

Yang fumbled with her words, and Blake felt the creeping fear begin to trickle back up her spine. The tension in the air began to shift again, warping around Yang’s unspoken question.

The blonde sighed, looked up at her partner, uncertain lilac met dawning amber, and Blake began to wonder when the tension had begun to feel like less of a question, and more like the cocking of a gun.

“What did you mean by the world not giving _us_ an inch?”

Blake’s breath froze in her throat, and the world halted itself for a moment, suspending the pair on a plane that kept tilting, kept _tipping_ , and Blake could barely breathe–

_“Breathe.”_

Awareness snapped back to the woman along with air, Blake heaving in a scrambled breath.

“Focus on my hands.”

Blake hadn’t even realized that Yang had wrapped her hands around her own – but now it was all she could focus on, the sensation of heat contrasting the coolness of the metal chain that linked them together.

A moment passed, then two, and Blake’s breath began to even out again. Yang smiled, let loose a relieved sigh, then straightened up – but her hands remained wrapped gently around Blake’s.

“Good,” the blonde said, her tone soft with faint notes of concern, “you had me worried for a moment there.”

“S-sorry,” Blake’s words were halting, tripping over themselves as though she hadn’t spoken in years, “I–”

“Wasn’t really looking for an apology there, Blake,” Yang gently interrupted, giving her partner a soft smile, “It’s alright. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Blake nodded, feeling more drained than she had all evening, and that was including her secret identity spill and a drawn out police chase. Yang frowned slightly, then, shifting her weight uneasily.

“I’m sorry, actually,” Yang began, ignoring Blake’s startled noise of protest, “I shouldn’t have asked that. I’m sorry.”

“No–”

Blake’s voice was so loud it bounced back at them from the painted walls, echoing around the safe room and disappearing out the open window into the night below.

“I just,” Blake swallowed, tried again, “I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s alright to ask, but – I just…”

A gentle, warm squeeze around her hands, and that same comforting warmth that had given Blake the strength to tell her own story returned in spades. Something about Yang, she would later muse, chased away all the shadows that dwelled in the corners of her mind, and gave her a fiery courage that even the dark couldn’t tamp down.

And it was that same courage that drew her into pulling her hands away, reaching one up, and tugging gently on the ribbon tied into her hair.

In the dark room, with painted eyes watching and light from a streetlamp pulling edges out of the gloom, Blake’s true ears perked before her partners watchful gaze.

There was silence, worry and fear swirling into an ugly blend deep inside Blake’s chest, as she watched Yang’s face for any indication of the usual signs – the first furrowing brow, the lilting lips in disgust, the anger or hatred blooming within lilac eyes.

When Yang made a noise that sounded more like a laugh than a snarl, Blake could only blink in shock as surprise chased away the majority of her fear. The pair stood, staring starkly at one another – Blake with a mixture of confusion and worry; Yang with a blend of realization and, against all reasoning, amusement.

They stared at each other for another good, long, moment, before Yang broke the eye contact by looking away in something akin to embarrassment, pressing her free hand to her lips and mumbling the words more than she spoke them.

“I-I’m sorry, I just…”

Her voice trailed off, Blake now entirely unsure of what to think – Yang cleared her throat awkwardly, looking back to her partner with a kind of self-inflicted shame shining in her eyes.

“Blake,” Yang whispered, and the words sounded booming to Blake’s now-unrestrained hearing.

“You are the _Catman_.”

Blake blinked once. Then twice. Then–

_“What?”_

The question, rhetorical and disbelieving, burst out with a mixture of startled laughter. The reaction broke the last of Yang’s self control, and the blonde dissolved into her own spurt of giggles, the tension in the air fleeing the room with the last of the situation’s predictability.

“Yang, you–”

“I’m sorry!” Yang burst out, her words stumbling in their rush and interspersed with unrelenting giggles, “I shouldn’t have said it, I’m so sorry, that was _so_ rude, I just couldn’t help it, I’m sorry, it just slipped out, I’m so sorry Blake–”

Blake cut her off by throwing her arms around her partner, clutching her tight and effectively stopping the ramble of apologies. It only too Yang a moment to return the embrace, a warm arm coming up behind her to hold her just as close, the other doing its best in spite of the taut chain.

For a moment they simply stood, hugging each other tight. Then Blake spoke, and her words were soft and filled with enough emotion to crack her voice partway through.

_“Thank you_.”

There was a moment before Yang replied.

“Blake,” the blonde began, “I know my puns are pretty good, but there’s really no reason to–”

Blake cut her off again, but for entirely different reasons this time. She pulled away as Yang grumpily rubbed the back of her head where her partner had swatted it. She grumbled something unintelligible, then looked back up to Blake, smiling slightly.

“I already knew, Blake,” she admitted, and Blake’s heart both soared and fell.

“…Sun?”

Yang shook her head immediately, dislodging both the thought and a hundred blonde locks. She indicated to herself with two thumbs pointing at herself, grinning in a way that wasn’t cocky in the least.

“’One perceptive woman,’ remember?”

Blake blinked.

“I figured it out myself,” Yang confessed, raising an arm to scratch at the back of her head, “between the bow, and the Lily Fang thing…”

She glanced at Blake, an eyebrow cocked as she spoke.

“… The whole ‘bow twitches at loud noises’ bit…”

Blake sputtered indignantly, and Yang laughed, though the sound wasn’t mean.

“I just put it together, piece by piece. It wasn’t obvious at first, but…”

The blonde shrugged, the atmosphere light despite the heavy confession.

“When you’re handcuffed to someone for over an hour, you tend to notice things.”

Blake blinked, then felt her face break into a warm smile.

“Yes,” she murmured, more to herself than to Yang, “I suppose you do.”

Yang nodded, shuffled her feet, and cleared her throat.

“For what it’s worth, though,” the blonde finished, “thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”

The widening of Blake’s smile was less on purpose, and more just on instinct.

“No, Yang,” she responded gently. “Thank _you_ for being someone worth trusting.”

Yang blinked, grinned sheepishly, and nodded in return. She turned back towards the walls, visibly seeing them in a new light.

“So,” the blonde began, “that’s the full story, eh? ‘Angsty Faunus teenager turns into smooth, suave vigilante?”

“You’ll never believe what happens next,” Blake shot back, smirking at Yang’s lifted eyebrow.

Her partner snorted in response.

“You really are the Hot Topic of us two,” Yang replied, “An angry, edgy bedsheet, complete with hair dye, ninja traits, and–”

“Lily Fang nudes,” Blake interrupted, grin growing twofold at Yang’s surprised choke, “and my hair is _naturally_ this colour, thank you very much. I could ask about the authenticity of yours, though.”

The accusation on her prized hairdo was enough to bring Yang out of the near conniptions she’d gone into over Blake’s interjections.

“Oh, no, don’t you dare,” Yang shot back, “my hair is a wonderful collaborative piece between my mother and father.”

“And the rest of you isn’t?”

“Only the good looks and rockin’ bod. The general badassery, I get from my mother. The puns, my father.”

“Ah. Remind me to never meet him.”

“I’ll be sure to invite you to our next family dinner, then.”

Blake cocked an eyebrow at the sure-fire response.

“Moving a little fast, don’t you think?”

Yang snorted, lifting a hand to count on.

“Let me think,” she said, pronouncedly raising fingers as she spoke, “nearly died in a bike ride _and_ a police chase, escaped with our lives from a club fight, gave a backstory longer than Sun’s entire ancestry…”

She trailed off, eyes focused upwards as she tried to recall their night.

“Yeah, I’d say that’s the perfect next step for us, considering the speed of the rest of our evening.”

Blake laughed, finding it hard to dispute the point. The pair fell into silence, comfortable and calm. Then Yang cleared her throat, refusing to meet her gaze.

“So, were those ‘Lily Fang nudes’ the real thing?”

_“Yang!”_

“What? I’m just asking! I don’t know what you may have accidentally sent someone and had posted online.”

The sound of Blake’s hand meeting her forehead was probably audible to the bike police officers, now blocks away.

“For your information, no,” Blake clarified after she was done physically expressing her disbelief, “though Sun and I both got a laugh out of the links.”

Yang hummed thoughtfully.

“Sun knows about this, too?” she asked, Blake nodding in reply.

“Sun and Velvet, another friend of mine,” she explained, “both Faunus as well. Neither of them could hide their traits, so they fought for themselves in different ways – I always felt guilty about that, in some ways. Sun always told me that mentality was stupid; in fact, he’s the one who encouraged me to take on the role of Lily Fang.”

“Sun Wukong, he got it going on,” Yang half-said, half-sung, completely negating any of the serious atmosphere Blake might have drummed up. The Faunus, for her part, only sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. Yang laughed easily at her reaction.

“Well, if anything, now the birdseed prank makes a little more sense,” Yang continued, grinning and failing to take note of Blake pulling out her phone, “though I would like to reiterate that that was entirely Sun’s idea–”

“Hey, Yang.”

The blonde blinked at Blake’s interruption.

“Uh, yeah?”

“What’s the best way to say hello to me?”

Confusion was written clear across Yang’s face.

“I, uh… I don’t know?”

Blake pressed play on her phone.

_“What’s new, pussycat? Whoa-oh-whoa-whoa–”_

Yang almost all but swatted the phone across the room.

Blake laughed at the blonde’s reaction while defending the life of the device, holding it just beyond her partner’s grasping reach. In a godly sense of sympathy, she cut off the song after a few lines, smirking at the defeated expression on Yang’s face.

Yang slumped over and muttered something under her breath, dark and just within the range of Blake’s enhanced hearing.

“I’m definitely making that your ringtone.”

The Faunus laughed, shaking her head lightly at the double-edged sword of a threat.

“Oh, Yang,” she chuckled, “Would you like me to keep playing it?”

“Please don’t,” the blonde interjected, pushing her bangs back off her face as she straightened back up, “Lest you bring Pyrrha and the Tour de Frumps back for round two.”

At that, Blake tilted her head.

“About that,” she said, “why exactly did your friend show up with half of Vale’s police department behind them?”

Yang’s shrug belayed that she was just as lost for an answer on that one.

“I have no idea,” the blonde answered, “though Pyrrha is a detective – or, er, junior detective? Really not too sure on that one – on the police force. Arslan and Reese, the other two in the car, are officers from the same department, though they’re usually stuck with their partners, the pair that locked themselves out of their own car.”

“And they were all on our tail because…?”

Yang shrugged again.

“Something to do with the date? Just a really, really unfortunate coincidence? Pyrrha got tired of saving me from the law all those years ago, and decided to come and collect for it?”

At the last statement, both of Blake’s eyebrows lifted, hitting Yang with the double whammy. The blonde did not fail to catch on.

“Er… long story?”

Blake shook her head.

“You can’t just bring it up and expect me to leave it there,” the Faunus flatly stated.

Yang huffed, scowling momentarily before her face cleared with resignation.

“Fine,” the blonde acquiesced, “I guess if you gave me one long backstory, I owe you one in return.”

“Wait–,” Blake hurriedly followed, panic lacing her tone over the misconstrued intentions.

“Blake, I’m kidding,” Yang cut her off with a laugh, waving a nonchalant hand at her, “I don’t mind telling you about this; it’s not the world’s best kept secret, unlike yours. I’m a little less personal about my deep, dark past – I’m always open.”

Blake’s reasons for lifting her eyebrows were entirely different this time around.

“Wait, no, not like that. Like an open book! Spread wide – wait, no –”

Blake couldn’t help the stream of laughter that spilled loose over Yang’s reddening face and worsening words. The blonde scowled something awful, glaring into a dark, empty corner.

“Fine, laugh it up,” Yang grumbled, though her tone betrayed her slight amusement, “Look, just because some of us keep tragic secret identities to ourselves doesn’t mean everyone does.”

Blake let one last chuckle leave, then comforted the blonde.

“You would have laughed too, Yang, if the roles were reversed.”

Well, maybe not traditionally comforted, but it worked nonetheless.

“That’s a fair point,” Yang admitted, all traces of anger gone from her expression, “but anyways, a couple of people know about this story. Not all of them were involved, either.”

Her hand came up to tap on her opposite arm, the handcuff chain jingling with the motion.

“I used to be an underground cage fighter.”

She said the words so nonchalantly that they might as well have been discussing the weather, not illegal, violent activities.

Blake’s incredulity was practically tangible in the silence that followed.

“I’m sorry, _what_.”

Yang only laughed, clearly having anticipated the reaction.

“Just as I said,” she clarified by not clarifying anything at all, “I used to fight in underground boxing matches as a teenager. It was… a good way to make money, amongst other things.”

“Including gaining concussions?”

“Exactly!”

Yang said the last word a bit too brightly to be anything but forced, and Blake once more caught a brief glimpse of the sadder, more subdued woman that seemed to be lurking beneath her partner’s sunny exterior.

At Blake’s patient and knowing silence, the wide grin on Yang’s face cracked a little, before it fell entirely, dropping alongside the volume of her voice.

“Like I said before,” Yang explained sombrely, Blake nearly gaining whiplash from the sudden change in tone, “I was a bit of a scrappy kid.”

She rubbed at her arm, then, and after a few harsh motions, Blake realized that colour was streaking away. What lay underneath were harsh, crossing patterns, lighter skin over the blonde’s even tan – scars, Blake realized with a sinking heart.

Moments later, and Yang’s arm lay clear – and looked, in many ways, as though it had been rebuilt from pieces. While smaller scars were on her upper arm, the true extent of the damage shone in her forearm, where ragged skin and jagged scars met like the edges of continents and seas.

Blake found herself reaching out before she could really think about it – and Yang closed the gap on her own, placing her wrist into Blake’s outstretched hands. The Faunus traced the scars with her fingertips for a moment, taking in the tapestry and topography of Yang’s history – long, wide scrapes; smaller nicks and cuts; even places where bone had visibly broken through the skin.

When Blake was satisfied, she curled Yang’s fingers into the blonde’s palm, then wrapped her own hand over the warm, scarred knuckles. Amber drifted back up to meet patient lilac.

“What happened?”

Yang smiled, as though having expected the words, then sighed and looked down to her arm.

“The better question,” she detoured, “is actually what led up to it.”

She looked back to Blake, her voice even and calm, but she didn’t pull her hand away from her partner’s embrace.

“I started fighting at Junior’s when I was still in high school,” Yang began, and the same roughness that had once been in Blake’s tone had found its way into hers, “My dad had really lost himself, and money had been tight – there weren’t a lot of options open to a rough kid who didn’t have a lot of skills except fighting to protect her younger sister.”

Yang shrugged, a carbon copy of a motion that was supposed to ease worries, but without any of the heart required for it.

“As it turned out, that’s all I really needed.”

Blake listened patiently, absentmindedly running her thumb over the divots in Yang’s worn knuckles.

“I’d had a penchant for boxing all my life – my dad taught me to fight in self defense when I was younger, though I don’t think he would have had he known what I would eventually do with the knowledge. I started off pretty low – no one really expected me to hold my own, much less win anything – so it was even more of a surprise when I started beating regular victors.”

There was a kind of beaten pride in Yang’s small smile at that.

“Junior didn’t want to let me go, after that. I didn’t really mind too much – the money was really good, being the underdog, and it wasn’t like I was getting in trouble with anyone but Ruby over it. But, as you know, cage fighting is illegal – and there were a few close calls where I almost got caught for it.”

Her tone sobered, though she still smiled.

“That’s where Pyrrha came into the picture.”

Blake frowned, but Yang answered her question before she could even voice it.

“Pyrrha is a bit older than me,” the blonde explained, “so she was already in the Police Academy. She’s always been a bit of a prodigy, and she was already the chief’s favourite – we first met at a club raid, when Pyrrha ran into me in the same alley we escaped from earlier. Of course, back then we didn’t really know each other – she was just a friend of a friend.”

Yang smiled wider, and this time, it was true.

“But Pyrrha’s always had a bit of a bleeding heart, and she didn’t have it in her to throw some high school punk under the bus for trying to keep her family together.”

Blake hummed in agreement.

“I can’t think of many who would,” Blake said, earning a nod from her partner.

“Either way, we made a deal,” Yang continued, “Pyrrha would help keep me out of trouble and out of sight of the law, and I wouldn’t get involved in any of the other… illegal activities at the club. I kept it up until the end.”

The small, nostalgic smile she’d had faded into a grimace.

“And the end really wasn’t particularly pretty,” she finished.

Blake only held onto her partner’s fist a little tighter, letting the words come to the blonde at her own pace.

“Funnily enough, Mercury was the start of it all,” Yang started up again, Blake startling at the now familiar name, “I had to face him in a match, and, well – let’s just say we weren’t exactly on good terms back then. I beat him, fair and square; then he threw a threat, and I broke his ankle before he had the chance to act on it.”

Blake’s eyebrows shot up for the third time that conversation, Yang shrugging with a familiarity to the reaction.

“It healed fine, no lasting damage. If anything, it brought him down a couple of notches, and made him bearable to talk to, once he forgave me. But that wasn’t really the issue; the problem was, no one wanted to fight a dirty opponent – and that’s what fighters who hurt others once the match is over become.”

Sympathy spurred Blake’s thumb into tracing back and forth again, the action comforting and soothing. Yang’s brow furrowed at the memory, clearly recalling less than happy moments.

“I started facing rougher opponents; still won, but got hurt a lot more for it. Cage fighting doesn’t really have a lot of rules in the illegal scene – but the good fighters have some semblance of carefulness, a level of caution. The bad ones – well, they don’t care for much but winning, and will do anything to get it.”

The blonde’s free hand rose to wrap around her arm again, squeezing tight as if to anchor herself.

“Then one evening, I fought my last match.”

She inhaled, the sound shaky and uneven, wrought with emotion.

“It was this big guy – tall, tattoos, and even wore this weird skull mask – I don’t remember a lot from it, honestly. Too much adrenaline during the fight, and… and too much pain afterwards.”

She swallowed, and a bit of Blake’s heart broke.

“He didn’t stop once he’d won,” Yang said, in a voice that was too small to fit her right.

Blake reached out in the silence that followed, hoping to comfort – Yang pulled away, shaking her head.

“No, I don’t–”

Yang sighed, looking away.

“He broke my arm by shoving it through the cage,” the blonde finished, her tone flat and broken, “effectively ending my career as a fighter. I suppose, in some ways, I should thank him for it – it got me out of a situation I wouldn’t have been able to escape otherwise, even if… Even if recovery took months, and kept me in bed for half of them.”

She shrugged, her half-smile matching the heartless half laugh that followed.

“But hey, it brought my dad back to his senses and my uncle back to town, so I guess it was worth it in the end.”

Blake moved to pull her close again, and this time, Yang didn’t fight back.

The Faunus held her partner tight, tight enough to feel the cords of muscle beneath the blonde’s clothes, and whispered firmly into her ear.

“Never,” she countered resolutely, her voice strong despite the emotion that ran through it, “Your suffering is _never_ worth it, Yang. Not that much.”

She felt a shaking hand press against her back, hesitantly returning the embrace. Blake only squeezed tighter, held her closer.

“It doesn’t matter what it brought back,” she continued, “You shouldn’t have had to go through that. I’m sorry that you did.”

“It’s alright,” Yang replied, her voice barely keeping from cracking despite her best efforts, “I–”

“It’s _not_ alright,” Blake interrupted, “Never, Yang.”

The blonde fell silent, but her arm tightened around her all the same, and Blake knew it for what it was supposed to be. Amber eyes slid shut, and Blake squeezed back as she spoke.

“You’re welcome.”

They stood in silence for a moment longer, before Yang pulled away – Blake let her go, though she took hold of Yang’s hand again, refusing to let go entirely. Yang looked at the floor, something like shame and gratitude mixing in her eyes, before she glanced back to Blake.

Yang, Blake was quickly realizing, wasn’t used to people looking past the bright light she shone, and finding only a quiet flame behind it all.

“Thanks, Blake,” Yang said, her words with a slight rasp.

The Faunus nodded, smiling back at the blonde.

They lapsed into a silence, both sifting through their own thoughts. A minute passed, then Yang sucked in a startled breath, drawing Blake’s attention back to her.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Yang said dramatically, “I made at _least_ ten cat jokes tonight.”

Blake burst into a startled snort at both the words and the incredibly apologetic look on Yang’s face.

“Yes,” she replied, once she was sure of her ability to evenly speak, “and I don’t think that’s including the puns in the bookstore.”

Yang only groaned, tilting her head back.

“I am _so_ sorry,” the blonde said, “it has only just occurred to me how _incredibly_ rude that was.”

Blake shook her head, smiling lightly.

“It’s alright,” she replied, the response almost ingrained in her, “You didn’t know before, and it’s not like you did them with any bad intentions.”

Yang fixed her gaze with a surprisingly steadfast determination in them.

“It’s not okay,” Yang said, her voice steely to match her expression, “Not really. I’ll make a point to do better.”

Blake blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity of the blonde’s tone. Very few people, human especially, bothered to make a point about _puns_ , for crying out loud.

“It–” Blake cleared her throat, still surprised by Yang’s sudden stubbornness on the issue, “It’s actually fine with me, Yang. If anything, I’m curious to see how many more you can come up with.”

Yang eyed her suspiciously for a moment, before her expression and entire demeanour changed fast enough to count as a mirror image.

“In that case,” Yang said excitedly, yanking her phone from her pocket and already beginning to hammer in her password, “let’s see how many suggestions Google has to offer–”

Her words cut off abruptly, the speed at which they halted in her throat drawing curiosity and a bit of concern from her partner. Blake craned her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of what had frozen Yang’s speech abilities. The blonde didn’t make her wait long, however, turning her phone screen to Blake as she spoke.

“Oh my _god_ ,” she repeated.

Eleven missed calls, seven texts from Pyrrha – the most recent one reading “DID YOU DIE I’M SO SORRY” – and twenty seven texts from Sun, most of which were likely just ‘where r u,’ because Sun inexplicably texted like a thirteen year old with a keypad phone.

Blake blinked at the display of information, before glancing back up to Yang’s absolutely overjoyed expression.

“Blake.”

Yang’s tone was hushed and revered.

“Do you know what this _means_?”

Blake perked an eyebrow and an ear, glancing between the phone and her partner.

“It… means they don’t know where we are?”

_“It means they don’t know where we are_. _”_

Yang repeated her words with far more excitement than their entire evening had had, and considering the police chase, that was saying a lot.

“Blake,” Yang repeated, and the Faunus tried to decide whether or not she liked her name being said as though she were a revered god, “do you know what _that_ means?”

Blake let her silence be her reply.

“Master has given Dobby a sock,” Yang continued after a moment, pausing and giving Blake time to file away the information that Yang was, in fact, a huge nerd.

Then the blonde grinned as she watched Blake’s expression suddenly change as the true realization of what the situation really meant sank in. Disbelieving amber met ecstatic lilac, and Yang confirmed exactly what Blake was thinking.

_“Dobby is FREE.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Pyrrha voice* Hello again!
> 
> New year, new chapter - and hopefully, new me, but that’s gonna be debatable. Anyways, here’s the latest chapter; it took forever to write, but I’m happy with how it turned out in the end, and I hope you guys enjoy it too. Lots of exposition and emotion, but stay tuned - the excitement for our BY couple will return in a couple of chapters. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone for your comments, and for those who checked up on me - I’ve been super busy with school and moving out, and was aiming to get this chapter done for Christmas, but didn’t quite hit the goal. Still, a week off is a lot better than a month of, so I’ll count it as improvement. I have a bit of motivation up again, so who knows! Maybe the next chapter won’t take four months to complete.
> 
> On one last, final note, if you guys have never read my fic Golden Leaves, and find yourself with a couple of hours to spare (and some tissues, I’ve been told), it would mean a lot to me if you gave it a shot. GL was my first RWBY fic, and while it is a bit of a, er, large read, it’s something I’m still super proud of and that doesn’t really get a lot of attention. There’s no ships in it, but if you like Yang and reading about characters growing up and going through life, you’ll likely like it a lot. Or so I’ve been told in the reviews.
> 
> That’s all for this time, folks! As always, a shout out to the reviewers, and to my endlessly patient beta Velarys, for not harassing me to get this done four months ago. Hmm. Perhaps he should.


	19. Pitch Perfect

If you asked Fox what was so great about karaoke, he would tell you that it was only fun if you already knew the lyrics (he would be right, only under very specific circumstances). If you asked Weiss what was so great about karaoke, she would tell you nothing, what a ridiculous pastime, and how dare you suggest she would take part in such a thing (she would be wrong, and also lying).

If you asked Ruby what was so great about karaoke, she would tell that you could be anyone when you sang – you could be the real singer, you could be a stage persona, you could be no one in particular. But the best part was, you didn’t have to be yourself (she would be right).

There was something incredibly liberating about karaoke, about being able to sing your heart out and not give a damn about who judged you for it. If fortune favoured the brave, then karaoke formed the _fearless_.

Ruby had grown up with the mic in her hand, endless fond memories of a worn, old couch, an outdated tv with a cracked casing, and sweaty palms around a mic that was used for hours on end. Duets with her sister, angsty refrains on the tough days of teenagehood, sassy songs sung to her father and uncle – when he was foolish enough to set foot anywhere near the den. Every kind of genre and voice had been mimicked in their small home, words bouncing off the walls and characteristic instrumental renditions echoing down the halls.

To say the least, karaoke was special to Ruby.

Of course, part of it lay in the fact that with karaoke, you could be anyone – and for a kid with a heck of a lot of social anxiety in her earlier school days, that meant a lot – and could therefore sing your heart out whether you were nailing the high notes or not. It was like singing in the shower, but with less judgment from the rest of the household; karaoke was a shield, a reason to screech and crack and butcher the everloving soul out of some classic tunes.

So, it was pretty easy to understand why, despite the unfamiliar arcade and the only-slightly-familiar woman at her side, the comforting habits of karaoke set Ruby in her right to make it through their daunting task. They sailed through Spice Girls, stumbled on Shrek, and made it most of the way through Abba, before Ruby’s anxiety caught up with her and pointed out the growing crowd around them.

Then Weiss stepped in, and pulled them through to the final round.

The final round being, of course, even more terrifying than the previous ones put together – mostly due to the thinly veiled threat in Fox’s grin.

“Just in case you haven’t murdered the word from overuse yet,” the blind man began, “would you like to ask each other about your preparedness, yet again?”

Weiss rolled her eyes; Ruby scoffed, genuinely offended.

“Hey!” she shot back, pointing a menacing finger that, similar to every other physical gesture, had absolutely no purpose, “don’t insult the ‘ready’ tradition!”

Fox feigned shock, reeling back and placing a hand dramatically against his chest.

“I would _never_ ,” he gasped, Yatsuhashi now joining Weiss in impersonating the ‘wheels on the bus’ song with his eyeballs, “I was just making sure that there was absolutely no doubt left in any of your atoms, because I assume you’re down to that level of clarification.”

Ruby muttered something rude under her breath as she sank back into the cushions, causing Fox to give her a half-grin in return.

“If it makes you feel any better, Rose, I would have made fun of _any_ catchphrase either of you created.”

“Astonishing reassurance, thank you, Fox.”

“No payment needed. Although–”

Mid sentence, Fox held up his hand, revealing their last lien, clutched between his finger and thumb.

“You’ll need some kind of payment to finish your challenge.”

Both women began to groan, but he cut them off before they could finish with a single action. A shift in his grip, and suddenly, one coin became two.

Ruby’s brow furrowed, the girl sitting up to lean closer as she spoke in confusion.

“I thought we only had one coin left,” she said, “after all, didn’t I waste our spare on one of the greatest musical achievements of all time?”

“For the last time,” Fox grumbled, frowning to the side in clear disgruntlement, “the Shrek soundtrack does not, and will never qualify as a musical phenomenon.”

“Says you,” came the snarky reply, steamrolled completely by Fox’s voice picking up in volume.

“It is an insult to anyone with perfect pitch,” he explained flatly, before smiling wilily, “and I, in case you’ve forgotten, have that exact talent, and will be using it to judge your final performance tonight.”

“If it’s our final performance,” Weiss interjected, finally deciding that her presence was required to move the conversation past petty comebacks, “then why are you holding up both coins so gleefully?”

“Ah,” Fox stretched out the sound haughtily, “that would be because thanks to a recent development, there has been a change for the last challenge.”

White and brown eyebrows perked at the sudden introduction.

“To make a complicated story short,” Fox continued on, “and not bore you with the details, I found this lien after wondering what exactly was sticking into my side for the past two and a half songs. Honestly, I thought Yatsuhashi was just excited to see me.”

Fox cut off with a sudden yelp, the man mentioned having swatted him lightly across the back of the head for the comment. The blind man frowned, rubbing his head and sending a glare to his companion, while both Ruby and Weiss tried to hide their rather disturbed reactions over the insinuation.

“Okay, that _was_ a joke,” Fox clarified for them all a moment later, seeming to sense the general displeasure, “but this lien did get stuck in between the cushions, and made a rather pokey reappearance when we sank into the couch’s clutches.”

“For one,” Weiss interrupted, “please stop trying to make the couch sound like a villainous cartoon character; secondly, how does this change how we approach the final challenge? Or have we simply been granted a retry, on the highly likely chance we fail to achieve perfect pitch?”

Ruby snorted beside her, for some reason offended by the statement that was far more of a prophecy than a possibility. Fox only grinned.

“Absolutely not,” he answered, sadistically cheerful, which seemed to be a running theme for him that evening.

Ruby tipped her head back in a long groan, while Weiss simply opted to bury her head in her hands. ‘Hopeless’ no longer seemed to encapsulate their evening. Fox rubbed his hands together eagerly, nearly dislodging the extra lien from his grip back into the couch depths, before he pointed to the TV.

“An extra feature to this machine,” Fox explained to the pair, “is that if you have _two_ lien to cough up, and can find the extra mics, then you can do an ensemble number!”

He garnered no reaction from either girl, who appeared for all intents and purposes to have mentally checked out of eternity. Fox, seeing none of this, and who also would not have cared even if he could, continued on anyways.

“Luckily enough for you two, the extra mics have blessed us by being here the whole time, and the pair of batteries you need for the last one appear to have also been stabbing me through this couch cushion the entire time I’ve been sitting here which, quite frankly, makes much more sense than a single lien.”

In retrospect, Weiss would wonder if perhaps Fox had planned the dramatic reveal beforehand and simply hid them to begin with, but would eventually discard the theory in favour of blaming the gods who clearly had nothing better to do than shower them with complete misfortune.

“So, on top of the perfect pitch requirement for this challenge, you also have to involve this lovely crowd!”

He gestured to the pack of people who had slowly gathered around them; the few audience members sober enough to have a semblance of attention gave a small cheer at the mention of their presence, which ignited a drunken response from the rest of the crowd.

The pair’s only answer was complete silence from Weiss, and an encore of Ruby’s previous soul-escaping groan. Predictably, Fox smiled.

“You did say you were ready,” he taunted, as Ruby’s groan finally ran out of both air and existence.

“We weren’t exactly aware from the start that we would have to perform with an ensemble, now were we, Mr. Rules Explainer?”

Yatsuhashi stifled a snort at Weiss’s term, the white haired woman clearly running out of vocabulary as fast as her patience.

“Well, for a business major,” Fox answered lightly, “I would have expected you to know that you should always demand all the terms and conditions up front.”

He paused, grinned.

“No takesies-backsies.”

Weiss, who wasn’t sure if she should react more to the taunt or the terminology, began to puff up like some kind of demented bird. Before she could release her rage, though, a finger rose into the air, attached to an arm that stemmed from where Ruby was trying to metamorphose with the couch.

“That’s bull,” the redhead protested flatly, not even bothering to move her head from its position of staring up at the stained ceiling, “I accept things all the time without reading the full terms and conditions, and I don’t know a single business major who does when it comes to signing up for Neopets accounts.”

Weiss blinked in confusion as Fox gained an expression of contemplation, then nodded in acceptance.

“Fair point,” he conceded, before he returned to his general state of egotism, “but this isn’t Neopets, and we aren’t playing games here.”

He leaned forwards, steepling his fingers.

“We’re playing _Bohemian Rhapsody_.”

Weiss’s head tilted; Ruby’s eyebrows attempted to become astronauts. A beat of silence, then–

“Like the song, or what?”

“ _Exactly_ like the song, Rose,” Fox answered, as Yatsuhashi snagged the karaoke book and began to scroll through the list of numbers, “one of the conditions you didn’t wait for me to list was that for the ensemble number, I got to pick the song. And, well, what better number is there than the crowd-singing classic?”

Ruby shrugged and nodded in vague agreement, Weiss stared at them both, then scoffed and shook her head.

“I’m _not_ singing Bohemian Rhapsody,” she objected, frowning and closing her eyes as she crossed her arms heavily and slumped back.

“Oh, but you are,” Fox countered, leaning towards her with a pointed finger and tone, “unless, of course, you really want spend the rest of your life in handcuffs, because that’s what you get for not finishing the challenge.”

He shook his head, closing his eyes as his voice took on an extraordinarily disappointed tone.

“And I didn’t think we’d raised a criminal, Weiss.”

Ruby smiled in spite of her partner’s steadily building ire at the mental image of Fox, Velvet, and their equally dysfunctional friends raising Weiss as an adopted daughter.

Weiss, who had opened her eyes to stare at Fox in abject horror halfway through his statement, spluttered, momentarily speechless.

“I – I didn’t even – _you stopped talking!_ You didn’t make it seem like you had anything left to say!”

“Ah, that’s a weak defense, and you know it, Weiss,” Fox waved away her argument entirely, ignoring her barely-contained screech of outrage, “besides, what do you even have against Bohemian Rhapsody?”

“Yeah, Weiss,” Ruby echoed, “what _do_ you have against it?”

Weiss turned to stare straight at her partner, betrayal splashed all across her face.

“Whose side are you _on?_ ”

“Sorry,” Ruby mumbled, shifting uncomfortably as she turned away from Weiss’s piercing stare, “you just insulted possibly the best karaoke song.”

Weiss took a moment for herself, staring blankly at Ruby, before she exhaled heavily, closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, and froze for a moment. Then she sighed, opening her eyes to stare at Fox.

“Look,” she sighed, lines furrowing between her brows as she spoke, “how exactly are we even supposed to achieve perfect pitch with a crowd like this? Between the amount of alcohol spread out across this place, I’d be surprised if they could even sing a line, much less carry a tune.”

Fox shook his head, his form of a reassurance.

“You’re overthinking it, Weiss. You don’t need everyone in here to hit perfect pitch, just you and Ruby – and if you’re concerned about the other pair joining you, then, well, I guess you’ll just have to search for the soberest of them all?”

“Mirror mirror on the wall,” Ruby muttered, just as a new voice introduced itself to their conversation.

“I think we could help with that,” a man said, a dark hand reaching down to pluck one of the mics Yatsuhashi had dug out from the cushions.

Silver and cyan eyes sought out the speaker, startling slightly at the oddities that stood behind Yatsu and Fox. They were certainly odd characters, particularly when placed side by side – a young man who looked like he’d walked out of a jazz bar, with a woman at his side who looked like she’d been swallowed by a rave, then spat out into seven different pride parades, with a furry convention along the way.

Weiss and Ruby blinked for very different reasons; the former out of disdain, the second to clear her vision of the colour blindness she was suddenly experiencing.

Then, once the shock had worn off, the recognition set in.

Weiss squinted, eyes narrowing on the man who was currently twirling the mic between his fingers.

“… Flynt?”

The man in question laughed, a steady, smooth sound that was a little too pleased with their current situation.

“Hey, Schnee,” Flynt replied, grinning easily, “Neon and I thought you might need a little bit of help with your… ah, _questionable_ theme of activities this evening.”

Ruby frowned at the way Weiss glanced down at Flynt’s comment. Fox, unable to see his friend’s aversion, only scoffed and answered for them both.

“Now, I have no idea who you are, but please, try and refrain from insulting our guests,” the blind man interrupted, “they didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. That said, I’ll let you off the hook just this once, considering you volunteered to join the madness. Who the heck exactly are you?”

Flynt chuckled, Neon giggling beside him.

“Flynt Coal and Neon Katt at your service,” the jazzy man answered, gesturing to each of them respectively, “ready to join in for the rhapsody.”

Fox grinned brightly.

“Well, Weiss, I’d say you lucked out! Either you have attracted the apparently only sober people in this place, or these two are incredibly good at acting the part while drunk, in which case you’re still good.”

“Fashion sense notwithstanding,” Ruby muttered, just enough that Weiss could hear it. The comment earned her a soft chuckle, clear of snark and clearly honest; when Weiss looked up a moment later, Ruby was relieved to see that the brief apprehension on her partner’s face had disappeared.

But still, there was a note on her face that spoke of something – a worry, an unshared concern, perhaps – that was worn into her face the same way wrinkles become etched over time. Whatever was worrying Weiss was something that couldn’t be fixed in the immediate moment, the same way a band-aid could not heal a broken bone. Some things were healed by time, and others were simply formed by it.

“Weiss?”

The white haired woman startled at the soft tone in Ruby’s voice, her name threaded with care. Weiss stared back at silver for a moment, searching her partner’s face for something before she sighed and shook her head, closing her eyes.

“It’s nothing, Ruby,” she answered, knowing as she spoke the words the redhead was bound not to believe in.

“Are you sure?” Ruby pursued, the crease between her eyebrows only deepening, “because if you don’t want to sing with these guys, I’m sure–”

“It’s fine,” Weiss cut her off, her words sharper than she meant for them to be. Ruby’s eyes widened for a moment, then the redhead looked towards Flynt and Neon, narrowing her eyes at them as if searching for a visual reason for Weiss’s discomfort.

The part of her that wasn’t rapidly trying to rebuild her walls, or regretting her choice of tone, felt some kind of contentment over seeing her partner stick to her side. Then that part – the piece of her that didn’t have the Schnee brand stamped all over it – led her to take hold of Ruby’s hand, pull the redhead’s attention back to her, and smile.

“It’s not Flynt and Neon,” Weiss explained.

The pair in question shifted, Flynt grumbling something about ‘right in front of them.’ Neon elbowed him, clearly caught up in whatever dynamic Ruby and Weiss had going on.

“It’s just…” Weiss trailed off, not noticing Yatsuhashi sitting up straighter, or Fox leaning in to catch her words, both of them watching with comprehension.

She took a breath, then met her partner’s eyes straight on.

“This just isn’t something I’m supposed to do.”

Ruby’s brows furrowed at that, clear confusion written on her face as she replied.

“What, karaoke? What’s wrong with doing that?”

Weiss shook her head, her words suddenly unable to explain what she meant.

“Not just karaoke,” she sputtered, gesturing with her free hand to the scene around them – the arcade, the crowd, the general grunginess, “I – my family – it’s just… this kind of thing.”

Ruby’s frown only grew deeper.

“Like, the kinds of things you have fun doing?”

It was Weiss’s turn to look bewildered. Ruby took it as a sign to continue.

“Because, I mean – and pardon my language, that’s a steaming pile of _bull_.”

She said the last bit with such vehemence that somewhere in the crowd, some drunken soul let out a whoop in agreement, completely oblivious to anything but the tone.

Ruby continued on, shifting her weight as she looked away in thought.

“Yeah, things are tough, and people don’t always approve, and I can see why singing Shrek on a date with handcuffs is a little weird–”

To the side, Fox mumbled something over the Shrek comment; Yatsu nudged his shoulder to signify the overuse of the joke, before picking up the blind man’s phone.

“—but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it, if you’re having fun. And I think you’re having fun. I mean, as much as you can, given the circumstances, and well, you were rocking that ABBA song, so–”

Ruby huffed, pausing to blow a piece of errant hair out of her eyes before she met Weiss’s gaze again.

“It’s okay to do things just because you want to, you know?”

Weiss only stared back, her expression something almost forlorn. Ruby, panicked by the lack of response, started backtracking.

“Er, well—”

“Ruby,” Weiss interrupted, a slight smile melting the frozen expression, “thank you.”

The redhead blinked, then returned the grin tenfold.

“No worries,” she replied, before Yatsuhashi broke in, his tone gentle and even, a welcome contrast to Fox’s sharp, varying pitch.

“You don’t have to worry either, Weiss,” he spoke smoothly, “before you arrived, we spoke to the staff. There’s actually a no-camera policy here, just to keep people from regretting enjoying their time here.”

“And we wouldn’t let them record it, anyways,” Fox cut in, rather defensive and surprisingly comforting, “after all, we already threatened a bunch of people for the bathroom incident, and I doubt they’ll have forgotten that quickly.”

“So you’re free to have fun,” Yatsuhashi finished, a smile playing at the corners of his eyes, “your identity – secret’s safe with us.”

Ruby’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t you mean ‘secret identity?’” she asked, before her words caught up with her, “Wait, Weiss, you have a secret identity?”

Weiss stifled a sigh, while Fox snorted soundly.

“What we meant, Rose, was that her family won’t find out.”

Ruby ‘ahhhed’ in response to that, Weiss glancing up towards Fox. The blind man was looking back at her, eyes fixed resolutely in her direction. As though sensing her gaze, he gave possibly the most comforting smile he had all night, before he turned to face Ruby.

“Ready?” he asked, some of his previous joviality creeping into his voice.

Ruby grinned and Weiss nodded, the last trace of worry gone from her eyes.

Yatsuhashi chuckled in response, setting Fox’s phone on the table and reaching for the second pair of mics; Fox took the laugh as a signal, frowning over the lack of an audible response.

“You have to say ‘ready’ back, it’s tradition,” he mimicked in a cringe-worthy falsetto; both women ignored him pointedly.

Ruby glanced to her partner, silver eyes brimming with anticipation.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Ready,” Weiss replied softly, echoing with a smile of her own.

Satisfied, Ruby whirled to face Neon and Flynt, the former grinning and the latter looking somewhat still disgruntled.

“Ready?” she called to them, earning a thumbs up from Neon and a satisfactory head tilt from Flynt.

Seeing – or rather, hearing – his chance, Fox bounded to his feet, threw his arms in the air, and addressed the drunken crowd around them.

“Ready?”

“READY!” came the bellowed reply, most people having caught wind of the pattern that had begun.

Fox grinned blindingly, dropped back into his seat, and bowed at the waist. Knowing what the gesture meant, Yatsuhashi tossed the spare mics to Flynt and Neon, and Ruby plucked up the remote for the final time.

She clicked her way down to the song – admittedly, a shorter journey than the previous songs – and turned to look at Weiss.

“You do want to do this, right?” she asked, doubt sneaking into her voice despite the earlier confidence, “I mean, it might be fun, and besides, going along with it might be the fastest way to get us out of these handcuffs, and out of this date.”

Weiss frowned at that, unexpectedly bothered by Ruby’s statement. It wasn’t like Weiss hadn’t made the insinuation that she wanted her freedom back, and as soon as possible – but something about hearing her partner imply it felt wrong, and for a sudden moment, Weiss felt her heart drop as she wondered if that’s how Ruby had felt every time she’d said it.

The expression the redhead had had then – and the same one that was beginning to creep onto Ruby’s face the longer Weiss held her silence – certainly indicated as such.

“Ruby, I…”

She swallowed, staring back at her partner, and for a second, Weiss saw in Ruby a version of her sister, many years ago.

So then, there it was. A childhood of rejecting things, of pushing Winter away, of trying desperately to fill a pair of shoes she never truly wanted, of acting above the things that made her happy. And there was Ruby, just like her sister, waiting for her to realize that happiness didn’t come from empty pride.

And this time, Weiss didn’t want to lose her partner.

“I do want to do this,” Weiss replied suddenly, subtle joy blooming in her chest at the sight of relief unfolding on Ruby’s expression, “I do.”

_And not just to be free_ , said her heart, though the ice still around it kept the words within. But the first part of admission had proven to be enough for her partner, if the smile was any indication.

“I think it’s a little early for marriage proposals, don’t you think?” cut in Fox, unable to see or sense the emotional journey of self-realization that Weiss had just gone through. In retaliation, or perhaps to simply save Weiss the effort, Yatsuhashi elbowed him hard, earning a yelp from Fox.

“Look, it was either that or another comment on how these two seem to make effortless innuendos!”

His ‘defense’ only earned him another elbow.

Ruby smirked at the grumbling Fox, before she clapped loudly, pulling everyone’s attention back to her, and smacked play.

Say what you will about karaoke. Say it’s good, say it’s bad, say it’s childish – it doesn’t really matter. Because if there’s one true fact about karaoke, it’s that if you play a famous song – _especially_ if that song is Bohemian Rhapsody – then you will draw a crowd. A particularly _collaborative_ crowd.  It’s an unstated truth to the universe.

And it was one that Weiss and Ruby were, both expectedly and completely unexpectedly, about to find out. Quite dramatically.

The second the title of the song lit up on the screen – in comic sans, no less – the first couple of viewers soberest and closest to them caught wind of what was about to happen, and let out a preparative cheer.

This, of course, caused the rest of the crowd to cheer in return, and by the time the first lyrics appeared on the screen, Ruby and Weiss, along with their ensemble duo, had caught the attention of over half the sober crowd in the arcade.

Of course, because things in this story could never progress predictably, Ruby pressed pause right before the music began. She ignored the rather loud groan emanating from the crowd behind them, choosing instead to wildly gesture for Flynt and Neon to come towards them.

“You’ve got to stand behind us!” she stated, quite emphatically, “there’s four of us, that’s nearly non-negotiable.”

Flynt rolled his eyes, but followed Neon as she trotted over to join them. They took their positions, echoing the sight of the very famed music video they were about to put shame to.

Ruby nodded, satisfied, before glancing back to her partner. There were no ‘readys’ this time, only a nod in return and Ruby counting down in, “3… 2… 1…”

She pressed play.

What followed was an event neither Fox or Yatsuhashi would ever forget seeing – or, hearing – and that would be half remembered by the drunken audience of the entire arcade.

Some have never sung karaoke; that is fine. But there is a universal bonding experience to be found in singing Bohemian Rhapsody, and you’d probably be hard pressed to find someone who has and tells you that it was not an amazing experience.

And, just like every other previous instance of it having been sung before then, Ruby and Weiss would later feel much the same.

_“Is this the real life?”_

Fox let out an appreciative whoop with the rest of the crowd, before reminding them:

“Remember, perfect pitch, ladies!”

Weiss rolled her eyes, but her voice improved slightly. So did Ruby’s, if you count singing to screeching as an improvement.

_“Is this just fantasy?”_

Flynt and Neon stood stoically behind them, taking their roles surprisingly seriously as they sang along. All in all, they didn’t sound half bad.

_“Caught in a landslide, no escape to reality.”_

The full crowd hadn’t yet caught on yet – though the opening notes of Bohemian Rhapsody were, well, incredibly fun to sing, they weren’t always the first thing to draw one’s attention in a busy arcade, especially one with competing noises from the dance machine.

_“Open your eyes… look up to the skies and see.”_

Weiss pulled the long note, while Ruby pulled in a deep breath and took on the only role there was to take in the song.

_“I’m just a poor boy–”_

_“Poooor boooooy,”_ cut in the remaining trio, the three who were relatively able to harmonize.

_“—I need no sympathy.”_

Fox suddenly grinned wildly – those closest to the couch had begun mouthing along to the lyrics, and a few were even singing quietly.

_“Because I’m–”_

The dam broke, and the quartet was joined by a smattering of alternating voices as the song began to build, the pull of the song overtaking the usual social rule of letting people perform on their own.

_“Easy come–”_

_“Easy go–”_

_“Little high–”_

_“LITTLE LOW.”_

Ruby and Weiss both startled slightly at the volume that surged from behind them as the more drunken members of their audience remembered the lyrics, but carried on quite well.

_“Anyway the wind blows, doesn’t really matter… to me.”_

As the piano broke in from the choppy tv speakers, the somehow harmonized voices of Flynt, Neon, Ruby and Weiss faded out, replaced by claps and cheers of the appreciative, steadily building crowd behind them, someone whistling loudly. Someone else was pulling a high falsetto on the final _“to meeee._ ”

An unspoken conversation was struck up in the sudden gaze between Ruby and Weiss, both asking which of them would start off the rest of the song. In a rare, and definitive act of courage, Ruby raised her mic to her mouth first.

“ _Mama…”_

It was like someone had set off a bomb. Of applause. Evidently, the crowd approved of Ruby’s singing voice, which had thankfully lessened in volume.

_“Just killed a man…”_

The anxiety which had begun bubbling up in Ruby’s throat, flickered away as she met eyes with Weiss, then glanced towards the coach seating their judges. The arcade became her living room; Weiss, her sister; Yatsu and Fox, her father and uncle; and the crowd – well, someone had left the radio on in the kitchen.

_“Put a gun against his head,”_ Ruby sang again, her voice picking up strength as her confidence built from her love of karaoke, _“Pulled my trigger, now he’s dead.”_

Weiss got as close to a grin as she ever did, while the crowd cheered their appreciation of Ruby’s change.

“ _Mama… life had just begun–”_

Yatsuhashi smiled at the building volume, a clear sign Ruby was starting to forget where she was.

_“But now I’ve gone and thrown it all away!”_

As Fox drumrolled along to the song, the redhead threw her head back, and let the song pull her in completely.

_“MAMAAA!”_

Most people will find, when singing this song in a group – _“Ooooh” –_ that it is impossible for most people _not_ to chime in with the infamous “mama” lyric, least of all a drunken mob of twenty-somethings.

_“Didn’t mean to make you cry,”_ she crooned to Weiss, the white haired woman laughing in spite of herself over the dramatic expression on her partner’s face, “ _if I’m not back again this time tomorrow—”_

_“—Carry on, carry on,”_ Flynt and Neon harmonized as the rest of the crowd came dangerously close to throwing off Ruby’s pitch, _“as if nothing really matters…”_

Weiss laughed as Ruby’s part finished on a high – er, low note, the redhead grinning and mock bowing in response to the applause that had risen up for her. As the music drummed up to the next verse, Weiss raised her mic, and sang freely for the first time in many years.

_“Too late, my time has come…”_

“Sends shivers down my spine, alright,” Fox muttered, as the crowd (and Ruby) gaped at Weiss’s voice.

“No body aching all the time?” came a new voice, emanating from Fox’s phone, which at some point had begun a call with a contact named ‘Door Destroyer.” A whole host of voices shushed the first one, echoing from the tinny speaker. Thankfully, neither woman heard them.

_“Goodbye, everybody, I’ve got to go,”_ Weiss sang, half the crowd still staring at her in shock, “ _got to leave you all behind and face the truth…”_

The song began to pick up, and those still left in amazement managed to catch on in time to join into what had become at this point a group lyric. A group, one should add, that had become most of the arcade at this point.

“ _MAMAAAAAA!”_

Flynt and Neon joined in with half the crowd with the, _“Any way the wind blows~”_

Very few people managed to harmonize.

_“I don’t want to die,”_ Ruby’s eyes were shut, basking in the thrill of getting lost in the lyrics, the rest of the audience joining her as they grew progressively more hyped as the music built.

_“I sometimes wish I’d never been born at all!”_

The music tipped over into a great deal of air guitars, Weiss bursting into startled laughter at Ruby’s over exaggerated Gibson Gestures. Fox was busting out his own moves on his side of the couch, while Yatsuhashi was very casually turning on the ‘video’ option in the call.

Then the wild guitar solo began to roll into the rest of the song, and what was possibly the most impossibly unharmonized group performance began. Through some more unspoken decisions, Ruby grinned, and started them off.

“ _I see a little silhouette of a man–”_

_“SCARAMOUCHE, SCARAMOUCHE,”_ drowned out Weiss’s return, before she answered with, _“will you do the fandango?”_

Fox, handed the conductor’s chance he’d only ever dreamed of, gestured wildly to the “ _thunderbolts of lightning, VERY VERY fright’ning,”_ before the—

_“ME!”_ cut him off rather spectacularly, so high pitched it sounded like a cat being stepped on.

_“Galileo!_ ” Ruby laughed.

_“Galileo,”_ Flynt warbled.

_“Galileo–”_ Weiss falsettoed.

_“GALILEO FIGARO,”_ what might have been the entire arcade boomed, while Flynt and Neon feably tried to harmonize in a “ _magnificooo.”_

Ruby returned to her part, grinning back at Weiss, all traces of her anxiety gone as she reprised her previous role.

_“I’m just a poor boy, nobody loves me,”_ she sang, before she half grinned, half winced, and put her hands to her ears in preparation for the assured ensuing echo.

It was a good plan.

_“HE’S JUST A POOR BOY FROM A POOR FAMILY,”_ Weiss nearly lost herself in laughing as what was _certainly_ the entire arcade followed up with her lines, “ _Spare him his life from this monstrosity!”_

Several people in the crowd nearly lost an eye as they – and Fox – conducted away to the infamous violin riff.

_“Easy come, easy go,”_ Ruby continued, a warmth in her chest as the familiar lyrics and the encouraging entourage more or less drop kicked any pressure from her mind, _“will you let me go?”_

The entire street heard the ensuing _“BISMILLAH, NO.”_

_“No, we will not let you go–”_

Fox’s phone had nearly vibrated itself off its table perch from both the crowd in the arcade, and the one audibly enjoying themselves on the other end of the line.

_“Let him go!”_

Ruby was heartedly laughing now, not even bothering to sing.

_“Bismillah!”_

Weiss was still trying somewhat, but her expression hadn’t changed from a wide smile in a while, and it was clear her attempts were mostly for the sake of keeping her redhead partner laughing.

_“We will not let you go–”_

Flynt and Neon were still singing along – but where Neon was evidently enjoying the experience, Flynt was starting to watch the pair on the couch with understanding dawning in his eyes.

_“Let him go!”_

Yatsuhashi had long ago settled into the cushions, watching the spectacle play out with a knowing smile; Fox was content to conduct and listen to Ruby and Weiss absolutely butcher the song.

_“Bismillah!”_

Say what you will about karaoke. Say what you will about ABBA, and Shrek, and even Bohemian Rhapsody. But the truth is, getting lost in a song is only easy when you trust the people you are with. Not all the bops, the bangers, and the top 20s in the world will break that rule entirely.

_“We will not let you go–”_

And it was clear to everyone watching – even to the blind man, yes – that Ruby and Weiss were definitely getting lost in the song.

_“LET ME GO!”_ Ruby had managed to rein in her laughter just in time for her line, though laughter was still evident in her voice.

“ _We will not let you go_ ,” Weiss returned, getting into her role by lowering her eyebrows enough to make her look like a 90s cartoon villain.

_“Let me go!”_ sang half the crowd, somehow coherent enough to split themselves in two, the other side following up with the final _“we will not let you go!”_

_“Let me goooo~”_ sang Flynt and Neon, and the rest of the arcade.

“Ah–” said Yatsuhashi, and he reached out to muffle the phone speaker just in time for all hell to break loose.

Did you really think a drunken crowd was able to time their “no” segment together? The answer is–

_“No,nO-N-no, nO, NO NO!”_

There were about seventy variations of the word no at about seventy different times, but that was okay. They still cut off in time for Ruby to nearly solo sing the:

_“Mamma Mia, Mamma Mia, Mammia Mia – LET ME GO!”_

“ _Beeeezlebub has a devil put aside,”_ Weiss began, and Fox cranked the TV volume as loud as it would go, so the mics would still be heard over the growing roar.

_“For me –”_ Flynt and Neon sang, as the crowd behind them began cheering and clapping.

_“For me–”_ Ruby followed, stomps starting to rattle the furniture and quiver their cups.

_“For MEEEEEEEEEEEE!”_

Weiss’s voice cut loud and clear throughout the entire arcade – somewhere, the toilet seat vibrating to her vibrato – and the song tipped into absolute pandemonium.

Wild guitar spilled from the speakers, the crowd screaming their approval as Flynt and Neon riled them up with the universal ‘raise the roof’ gesture, leaving their post behind the couch in favour of mingling with the drunken mob.

Ruby and Weiss were both laughing when the former grabbed the latter’s hand, grinning and yelling ‘come on,’ her words nearly lost in the roar, and certainly not picked up by the phone’s overworked mic. Then Ruby was pulling Weiss to her feet, both women wobbling a bit as they rose, trying to find their balance on the wimpy couch cushions – but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered but the laughter they were lost in and the moment stretched between them and the warmth where their hands met.

Yatsuhashi didn’t even worry as he picked up the phone and pointed the camera to the now dancing duo. The song spilled back into lyrics, clashing text appearing onto the screen as the crowd headbanged out the last of the transition.

“ _So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?”_

Ruby and Weiss were singing together, leaning in close, grins wider than ever on their faces.

_“So you think you can love me and leave me to die?”_

Flynt and Neon, at some point, had found their way up onto the pool tables, and were now dancing and singing with wild abandon.

_“OHHHH Baby!”_

Sun’s woop was audible on the other end, a woman’s laughter just as clear.

_“Can’t do this to me baby!”_

It really was a performance they would never forget.

_“Just gotta get out, just gotta get right out of here!”_

It was absolutely the kind of line Fox would have typically made a comment on, but, well. Around the time Ruby and Weiss had gotten to their feet, Fox had gone oddly quiet – even now, he wasn’t joining in with the wild guitar solos, though Ruby was putting on quite the show for Weiss’s entertainment. Instead, he was only listening – tuning out the crowd and the tv, somehow, and focusing on the laughter of the two women he’d been teasing for the last hour, and the way their voices had let go of the tension they’d carried in at the start.

Yatsuhashi nudged his shoulder, the larger man smiling in a similar fashion, both watching the pair perform without even noticing the crowd.

“Yeah,” Fox said quietly, words almost drowned out by the speakers and the awful screeches that were supposed to be drunken attempts at a guitar solo, “I know.”

He smiled a little wider then, listening to Weiss laugh harder than he’d heard in years.

“I know,” he repeated, and the song slowed down into its final refrain.

“ _Nothing really matters,”_ Weiss began, taking the lead this time as the crowd quieted, a few cheers for her voice arising, _“anyone can see.”_

_“Nothing really matters,”_ Ruby continued, Flynt and Neon oddly quiet from their pool table perch, _“Nothing really matters…”_

_“… To me,”_ the pair sang together, staring at one another as the piano mingled with their words, tipping into the final line of the song.

And in the quieted arcade, amongst a sweaty crowd of drunken fans, underneath neon signs and ignoring the last chirps from a long abandoned dance machine, Ruby and Weiss finished their second challenge.

“ _Any way the wind blows…”_

The cymbals crashed from the speakers, and for a moment, time was frozen as the song came to its close. Weiss, panting a little, smiled gently at her partner – and Ruby, long ago having forgotten Fox and Yatsu and the crowd watching them, smiled back.

Then the moment broke, and the crowd burst into uproarious applause.

Amidst the clapping and cheering, it was like the energy that had swallowed them into the song faded, and the pair sank back down into the cushions, a little more than breathless.

Fox was clapping along, his smile for once without malice, without teasing; Yatsuhashi was discreetly ending the call, hiding the phone behind the songbook and pretending to intensely peruse.

Weiss sat there, catching her breath – Ruby giggling a little beside her – when a hand fell onto her shoulder, squeezing slightly as a familiar voice muttered into her ear, too quiet for anyone else to hear over the fading applause.

“Well played, Schnee.”

The voice was soft, without mockery. There was a pair of taps nearby as Neon set the extra mics back onto the table, winked at the red and white pair, and then she and Flynt disappeared into the crowd.

A few minutes passed, multiple people congratulating the pair on their performance, the more drunk of the gathered losing attention quickly and drifting off to whatever had entertained them previously. Before long, it was just the four of them again, their couch corner left relatively alone. A stretch of silence, and then–

“Well,” Fox began, and the mirth began to slink back into his smile, “I certainly wasn’t expecting _that_ entertaining a performance.”

Weiss flushed at that, frowning; beside her, Ruby appeared to suddenly realize what she’d done, and the past ten minutes of staved off social anxiety hit her almost as hard as puberty hits a teenager.

“Oh,” Ruby said flatly, blinking quite quickly, “we did that.”

Weiss quirked an eyebrow at the lame declaration. Then, Ruby’s hands slowly made their way upwards, and a very _red_ Ruby buried her face in them.

“Oh, my god,” Ruby whispered, “Yang is never going to let me live this down.”

Weiss rolled her eyes.

Fox laughed, waving a flippant hand in her direction.

“Glad to see you know us well, Rose,” he confirmed, “Well enough to know this will somehow get back to your sister finding out.”

Weiss shot him a look over the implications.

“Not by video!” Fox rushed to clarify, holding up his hands as though he’d somehow sensed the white haired woman’s glare, “Just word of mouth. Friend of your friend is my friend, and all that jazz.”

Yatsuhashi nodded, and it seemed to be enough to placate Weiss, for the time being. She leaned back into the couch, settling alongside Ruby, who had apparently recovered enough to sit back up, though she was still a little red around the edges.

“Anyways,” Fox continued on, “I’d say that was a song quite well done. Although…”

There was enough threat woven into the way his voice trailed off that both women were immediately reminded of their original task, and both of them sat bolt upright.

Yatsuhashi cleared his throat, fighting back a smile at the panic settling onto the partners’ faces. Weiss somehow seemed paler than normal, if that was possible.

“And on the verdict of perfect pitch,” Yatsu began, Fox tapping out a drumroll against his knees, “the jury is…”

“Still out,” Fox finished, smiling innocently at the pair. He let the silence stretch on for an extra second or two, before he laughed and shook his head.

“Kidding,” he said, closing his eyes.

“You pass.”

The look on their faces was to die for. Perhaps don’t inform Fox of that fact.

The silence that followed his words, however, was enough to clue the blind man in on their feelings towards the matter. Yatsuhashi’s rumbling chuckle beside him only cleared up any doubt.

Weiss’s eyebrows had skyrocketed beneath her bangs; Ruby’s mouth was hanging open enough to count how many wisdom teeth had been removed. There was a moment as the pair tried to collect their thoughts, before they managed to burst out at the same time.

“ _What?”_

“You’re _joking.”_

Startled, the pair glanced at one another, then back to Fox – all in perfect sync. Yatsu bit his cheek to keep from laughing outright. Synchronized staring; now, that would be an Olympic sport worth watching.

“Seriously?” Ruby asked, eyes searching Fox’s expression for some kind of kidding. It was a warranted reaction.

“Seriously,” Fox confirmed, nodding sharply. Weiss’s face had turned contemplative, her eyebrows having returned from the stratosphere and now drawn together in thought.

“Wait,” she cut in, “that’s impossible. I know I broke pitch a couple of times – that crowd is impossible to sing with – and, let’s face it, Ruby’s singing is a little less than perfect.”

She ignored the silver glare shot her way – not that there was much defense behind it – and instead focused on Fox’s reaction. It wasn’t exactly what she’d expected.

The blind man raised an eyebrow, staring at her with vague incredulity.

“Let me get this straight,” he began, “you’re attempting to overthrow your own success at the challenge?”

Weiss startled at that, Ruby backtracking for her and spluttering out immediate denials. Fox’s laughter brayed at the reaction, falling into snickering as Weiss huffed and crossed her arms heavily.

“I was only–” she began, only for Fox to interrupt her gently.

“I know,” he cut in, his voice softer than before, “it’s not a victory by your standards.”

He paused, chewing on his cheek for a second, as though debating how to phrase his next line best.

“But,” he began, and there was a hesitancy in his tone that immediately pulled their suspicion, “I… might not have been entirely honest about the rules from the start.”

“ _What?!”_

The women yelled in tandem, a mixture of outrage and surprise across their features – the ratio between the two of them is probably pretty predictable.

“You mean – we didn’t have to – bohemian?”

Ruby’s dialogue didn’t make a lot of sense, unable to form a complete sentence from shock, but the meaning was pretty clear anyways. Weiss had gone both oddly silent and oddly still, and Fox was sensing that perhaps his horoscope’s warning of ‘death in near future’ should possibly not have gone ignored.

Yatsuhashi cut in, thankfully, before the couch could become a murder scene.

“What he means,” the low voice began, even and pulling the pair’s attention, “is that the stakes were never that high to begin with.”

“Yeah!” Fox continued, sounding a little relieved over his partner’s save, “we just had to give you sufficient motivation, is all.”

“But, you–” Weiss’s tone was still tinged with anger, and maybe a little frustration.

“Weiss,” Yatsu interrupted once more, “we knew you wouldn’t agree to a duet outright.”

“And really,” Fox finished off, his voice gentler than they’d heard it all night, “did you really think I’d expect you to be able to hit perfect pitch through all of that?”

Weiss opened her mouth to reply, but it was Ruby who answered first.

“Well, it is a fair assumption,” the redhead replied, staring at the mics on the table, “she is a little paranoid when it comes to you, I had to sneak into a bathroom because of that.”

Apparently, some bridges hadn’t been completely burned yet.

Fox couldn’t help the grin as Weiss threw up her hands in surrender, slumping back into the cushions.

“Fine,” she huffed, in a tone that clearly suggested it wasn’t, “but why did you have to pick that as your challenge? Asking us to draw a crowd or get the audience involved would have been sufficient enough as motivation.”

“Well,” Yatsu hummed, in a voice that was almost slightly sheepish, “it might have had something to do with a particularly relevant movie.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, Weiss, haven’t you seen Pitch Perfect?” Fox interjected, leaning forwards a little too enthusiastically, “It’s not about them being able to sing; it’s all about Beca learning to love herself and accept friendship.”

“Um,” said Ruby.

“Fine,” Fox grumbled, “it’s _half_ about them being able to sing.”

They’d spent long enough with the blind man at this point that they knew that was as much of a success as they’d get from him.

“Movie plots aside,” Yatsu continued on, “inspiration did come from that movie. The point was never to get you to reach perfect pitch; it was just for the two of you to trust each other enough that you were able to sing together.”

The truth in his statement resonated in the silence that followed, neither woman able to come up with a response. Fox cleared his throat a few seconds later, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a folded slip of paper.

“And for that,” he said, “I’d say it was a job well done.”

Then he held out the paper to the pair of them, both men smiling at the duo.

Ruby took it tentatively, glancing at it, but not unfolding it.

“Is this…?” she began, hope creeping into her voice.

“The next clue,” Yatsu confirmed, his smile a little wider, “we figure we’ve monopolized enough of your time tonight.”

“Freedom at last,” Fox echoed, snickering when he glanced at their handcuffs, “well, in one sense, at least.”

Weiss rolled her eyes, before Ruby gave the chain a hesitant tug.

“Actually, about that…” the redhead began, looking relatively wary.

Weiss perked an eyebrow in a silent question, Ruby chewing on her lip for a moment before she smiled sheepishly at her partner.

“… the milk returns,” she said in lieu of explanation, earning an almost immediate groan from her partner, and a round of laughter from Fox.

Ruby tugged at the handcuffs again, frowning petulantly, before glancing at the duo across from her.

“Can I pee in privacy, this time?” she asked, and Weiss couldn’t resist.

“What happened to friends peeing together and staying together?” the white haired woman whispered under her breath, earning an immediate look of surprise and indignation from her partner.

Fox, not having heard the comment – a small mercy to them both – only blinked in confusion, before he decided not to press any farther.

“Yes, Rose,” he replied, while Yatsu fished around in his pocket for the key, “you may tinkle on your own.”

He paused, then grinned.

“Well, within reason, of course,” he tapped Yatsuhashi’s bicep, “we’ll be sending a guard to make sure you don’t flee when you’re done.”

Weiss rolled her eyes, Ruby shook her head, but neither of them bothered complaining. As Yatsu leaned in to unlock their cuffs, the blind man continued on.

“Do try and be quick about it, though,” he said, “there’s a certain freckled friend waiting for you at your next challenge, and we wouldn’t want you to miss out on that one.”

“Freckled friend?” Ruby repeated, brows drawing together in confusion.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Fox waggled his finger, then mimed zipping his lips, “no more hints for you. I am the best secret keeper.”

Weiss’s snort went ignored by all parties except those standing several feet away. There was a _clack,_ and the handcuffs fell away for another time that night; Yastuhashi unlocked both their hands, giving a bit of a break to both their wrists. Ruby and the giant headed off – the redhead could be heard asking ‘freckled friend’ to Yatsu, in the same way kids ask their other parent for permission when the first one says no.

Fox and Weiss were left in relative silence, ignoring the blips and bings of the arcade still lively around them.

Weiss was content to sit in the peace, rubbing at her wrist and enjoying the slight reprieve from her captivity. Fox, predictably, was not.

“Sooooo,” he drawled, receiving a slight cyan glare, not that it affected him in the least, “having fun?”

Weiss scoffed, refusing to comment. Truthfully, she could have lain into him, yelled at her friend for the ridiculous evening – but something kept her from following through. Some emotion that felt very similar to the one that popped up every time she was a little too cold to her partner.

Fox hummed, taking her silence in stride.

“You know,” he continued after a moment, evidently content to be the only one speaking in the conversation, “this night wasn’t exactly thrown together on a whim.”

That got Weiss’s attention, the white haired woman glancing up towards the blind man, who continued on.

“Well, perhaps the original pairing was, but not the rest of it. We did plan out all the challenges for a reason – and we wouldn’t have let this happen if we weren’t sure you’d eventually enjoy it.”

Fox tilted his head, staring right towards his friend.

“Did you think we’d only planned this for the two of you to suffer?”

“Yes,” she said flatly, but didn’t jump to defend it when Fox lifted an eyebrow incredulously. Weiss fell into silence, fiddling with the chain.

“It would have been nice if we’d been given some warning of the night,” she answered eventually, her words still on the cooler end of the spectrum, “rather than being thrown into this chaos with no time to prepare for it.”

“Ah,” Fox hummed in response, “but then, would you really have let us go through with it?”

Weiss’s silence was answer enough.

“And anyways,” he continued, his tone even, “this way, you don’t have time to put walls up to hide who you really are.”

Cyan slowly found milky irises, Fox seeming to sense her gaze, not for the first time that night.

“Weiss,” he began slowly, as though speaking to a startled animal, trying not to scare her off, “She doesn’t see you for your family.”

“You mean she doesn’t recognize who I am,” Weiss snarled, her voice cold enough to make her wince. Fox, however, didn’t react to the sharpness in her tone.

“Not what I said,” he answered, “and not what I meant.”

She frowned, then felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

“Even if she realizes who you are,” Fox continued as she pulled out the device, finding a message waiting on the screen, “I don’t think she’ll care.”

“And how do you know that for sure?” her attention returned to the blind man for a moment, her words accusatory and defensive.

“I don’t,” came the quick, even reply, “not for sure. But I know enough about Rose to know that she won’t just think of you as Weiss Schnee, the ‘ice queen.’ She’ll know you as Weiss, who drank spicy noodles to keep her honour, and who’s too white to dance well, and who knows all the words to the Wannabe rap.”

Weiss frowned, glancing back to her phone and the messages on it.

 

_F.C. (11:43 pm): you’ve changed._

 

_F.C. (11:43 pm): for the better._

 

_F.C. (11:44 pm): Neon says to let us know next time you want to do karaoke again._

 

“Weiss,” Fox said again, and she looked back up at him, finding nothing but reassurance in his gaze, “Neptune said he thought you two would make a good pair. I… didn’t believe it entirely, at first.”

That surprised her, white brows knitting together.

“But now I do,” Fox finished, “because Ruby only sees you for Weiss, the woman she’s handcuffed to. And you’re the ice queen, and you’re cold, and you don’t know how to relax–”

He smiled before she could protest the rumours.

“But she’s making you melt, Weiss.”

She scoffed again, incredulity written all over her face – Fox laughed in return.

“I know, I know,” he said, his tone returning to more of its previous joviality, “it sounds cheesy. But it’s the best I got.”

He shrugged, as though that were any kind of real defense. Weiss scowled, glancing at the tv that had returned to cycling through foreign scenery, waiting for a new song to be chosen.

“It’s not like that,” she began, though her own voice sounded doubtful, “we’re just… stuck with this. No reason to be rude and make it harder on the both of us.”

Fox’s hum was all levels of disbelieving, but he didn’t outright call her on it.

“Right,” he said, playing along, “but here’s the thing. Earlier, when I asked you if she didn’t know, and then told you that you didn’t have to be the ice queen?”

Weiss frowned, remembering the words not long ago, spoken over the thrum of the dance machine, Ruby beside her with a look of confusion and her hands pressed over her ears. Fox had realized that her partner hadn’t yet caught onto the identity of the woman handcuffed to her, and had told her, somewhat sympathetically, that she didn’t have to be cold to someone who didn’t know how to judge her.

“Please don’t go having flashbacks to things that happened half an hour ago, Weiss,” Fox said flatly, correctly sensing her reminiscence in the lack of a reply.

She pointedly chose not to answer him.

“Anyways,” he continued, “I was somewhat wrong in saying that.”

Weiss looked up at him in surprise; Fox was grimacing as though he’d eaten something unpleasant, but he didn’t take back his words.

“I meant the whole ‘don’t be cold thing.’ But I was wrong about Rose. I think, even if she does figure out who you are – and she might not, I don’t know – but I don’t think she’ll care. I don’t think she’ll judge you for your name.”

“And how do you know?”

Her words were the same as before, but they lacked the ice, and in its place was what could almost be called desperation.

“I don’t, Weiss. But you’re handcuffed to her, have been the whole night. So I think – I think if anyone’s going to know, it’s going to be you.”

Weiss frowned, turning back to the handcuffs.

Fox sighed, knowing his words weren’t quite convincing the woman.

“But either way, you aren’t just your name. I know that, you know that – Coco, Yatsu, Velvet – we all know that. You just have to trust that Ruby will know it, too.”

Weiss didn’t reply, but the ‘and if she doesn’t?’ still hung in the air.

“Look, if you can relax enough to sing Bohemian Rhapsody at full tilt, and dance to the Cha Cha Slide, and just be the dork we know you to be behind all that ice – then I think she’s something good for you. And if she isn’t, well. Then the handcuffs come off, and the night ends, and we all apologize dearly for it and never bring it up again. But – I really think she is.”

She glanced up in time to see him cross his fingers, and lay his other hand over his chest.

“Scout’s honour,” he said, completely serious, despite not having been a scout for 14 years. She snorted in spite of herself, Fox grinning back at the tension disappearing.

They sat in silence, Weiss fiddling with the chain, letting the cuffs slide into her lap, before she spoke quietly, unsure.

“I don’t know if I can,” she said, before adding, “trust her, I mean.”

“I know,” Fox answered, “but would it really hurt to try?”

Weiss didn’t have a reply.

The blind man leaned back into the dusty cushions, crossing his legs and picking up the songbook as he did so.

“In any case,” he finished, “she hasn’t judged you yet. You’ve been cold, and she still hasn’t tried to break those cuffs – hell, she put them back on in the bathroom. So that’s something.”

Weiss smirked, huffing a laugh in memory.

“Yeah,” she echoed, “that’s something.”

“Fox,” a familiar voice cut in, “why are you reading the songbook?”

Weiss startled at Ruby’s sudden reappearance, whirling around in time to see her partner approaching, Yatsu close behind.

“I’m not reading, per say,” Fox drawled out, his tone back to normal as though they hadn’t just been speaking on something deep like, say, trust issues, “I’m simply taking in how this book smells like tequila even when it’s a foot from my nose.”

“Yeah, well,” Ruby replied, flopping back into her spot on the couch, dust obscuring her figure for a moment, “I think the table’s been re-varnished with it, so that might be why.”

Fox snorted as Yatsuhashi returned to his side, albeit with a much more controlled descent than Ruby’s.

“Gosh, it seems like bathroom breaks really do your sense of humour a favour, Rose,” the blind man teased, earning an eye roll from his target.

“Does it ever,” Ruby shot back, turning to glance at her partner’s reaction. Upon finding a lack of one, though, the redhead sat up a little straighter, her indignant expression smoothing out into one of concern.

“Hey,” she said, her voice lower and softer, startling Weiss into attention, “you okay?”

Worried silver met wary cyan, before a loud cough pulled attention back to Fox.

“She’s fine,” Fox assured, “we were just discussing how surprising it is you haven’t judged her for her performances tonight.”

Ruby’s brow wrinkled as confusion overtook her features, the redhead frowning at the statement.

“What?” she said, “they weren’t all that bad.”

Fox snorted while Weiss threw her a glance over the mediocre compliment.

“Besides,” Ruby continued on, oblivious, “I wouldn’t judge you over that.”

Fox’s eyebrows went up, a pleased expression settling on his face as he turned to look at Weiss as if to say ‘told you so.’ The white haired woman only stared back at him flatly, unmoved.

“I mean, like, maybe if you did the chicken dance on the dance machine, but even then,” Ruby kept going, frowning as though she was putting a little too much thought into Weiss’s hypothetical performance.

Yatsuhashi cleared his throat into his hand, resetting the attention.

“Perhaps instead of dwelling too hard on that,” he began, pointing to the neglected handcuffs, “we instead get you started on the rest of your night?”

“An _excellent_ suggestion!” Fox agreed brightly, earning himself scowls from both women, “why don’t we get right to it?”

Sighing, Ruby held out her hand expectantly; Weiss handed the cuffs over to Yatsuhashi, who easily clasped them around the redhead’s wrist once more. As he moved to connect Weiss, however, Ruby batted his hands off, shooing him away. He pulled back, puzzled, meeting Fox’s questioning gaze.

“Friends that pee together, stay together,” Ruby explained, unhelpfully – Fox, unfortunately, heard that entirely, and the look that took over his face was pretty entertaining. Fortunately, however, Ruby kept talking before he could say anything on the matter.

“But,” she said, her voice sounding rather sage where it really had no right to, “dates that stick together, succeed together.”

She glanced at her partner, meeting uncertain cyan. Ruby held up the open cuff, smiling tentatively.

“Ready?” she asked.

Weiss stared back at hopeful silver, finding only open trust in her partner’s expression. She glanced at Fox, frozen – and on the other couch she found Yatsu giving a thumbs up, Fox smiling and mouthing ‘trust’ back to her.

She turned back to Ruby, who was patiently waiting, her smile not slipping in spite of the seconds passing. Some kind of emotion passed through her – a warmth, almost – and she found herself smiling back.

A breath in, and then–

“Ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello! I know. I KNOW. Believe me, I have not spent over a year forgetting that I have a very popular fic just waiting to be finished. If you would like to know the reasons why this took so long, read on. If not - just know that I have not given up on this, and I can start writing freely again following May. So, no updates until summer, likely.
> 
> As to why this took a year to write… well, four main reasons. Firstly, this chapter is the hardest thing I’ve EVER written - Bohemian Rhapsody is a bitch to write out, lyrically, and still remain interesting to read. Secondly, I moved out last January - right around the time of the last chapter - and then got very busy trying to be an adult. I also lost a lot of commute time, which is good for me, but bad for writing, because I didn’t have a designated hour and a half every day for it. And third, I’ve been doing my thesis since September - it’s very, very, VERY busy, and I honestly just haven’t had the time to write.
> 
> But the main reason, honestly, is that Volume 4 was… not my cup of tea, to put it lightly. Personal reasons aside, the characters changed in a way that made it hard for me to enjoy writing them - and, because fan works changed as well, it was hard to find the same inspirations to rely on. The characters I'd seen from the beginning (and watched fandom develop long before canon had the time to) disappeared along with a good chunk of the writers and the artists of the time. Even when I had the time to write, I couldn't look to the show for the characters, and the muse was pretty much gone. With Volume 5, though, they're returning - and there are new authors and artists who are picking up the mantle. So the inspiration is somewhat back, if just a little bit slow.
> 
> For those of you still reading - I have no idea if any of you have stuck around from the start, but if you have, thank you from the bottom of my heart. To those joining along the way, or just starting now; thank you as well. And for those who’ve left comments telling me what they’ve enjoyed - you’re the reason I never came to tell you I was ending the fic. I owe my hours of work to finish the night, and these girls - but I also owe all of you. We’re far from finished, and I can’t thank you enough for joining me on this journey. And if you didn't find this chapter worth the year long wait, or don't like it - well, know that I'm not a huge fan of it, either. But it's done, and gone, and I can move on with the rest of the story now.
> 
> TL;DR? Adulthood and thesis eat up all my time, Vol 4 killed my motivation but Vol 5 brought it back, and never write Bohemian Rhapsody. Ever. And I can’t thank you guys enough for your patience, your support, and your sticking around.
> 
> Like I said, thesis ends in May, and I should be able to write again then - but likely, no update until then. But, like I said before, I have no intentions of giving up on this fic. I don’t think it’ll be a year again - I want to write the next chapter, my god do I ever - but like, no promises. We all know how that turns out. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading. Lattes and late night talks await y’all after May… Until then.


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